





^ ■ 





























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LECTURES 



FOR TB/E PEOPLE 



REV. HUGH STOWELL BROWN, 

* OF LIVERPOOL. 



FIRST SERIES, 

WITH A 

BIOGRAPHICAL IX T E D TJ C T I N, 

BY 

DR. SHELTON MACKENZIE. 



[AUTHORIZED EDITION.] 



PHILADELPHIA : 
PUBLISHED BY G. G. EVANS, 

NO. 439 CHESTNUT STREET. 
1860. 







By special arrangement, G-. Gr. Evans ivill publish the 

Lectures and Sermons of the Rev. Hugh S. Brown ; and 
it is the Authors wish that no parties shall infringe this 
contract. 



Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by 

G. G. EVANS, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of 

Pennsylvania. 



STEREOTYPED BY JESPER HARDING & SON, PHILADELPHIA. 



CONTENTS 



LECTURE PAGE 

Critical and Biographical Introduction 5 

I. — The Lord's Prayer 17 

IL— The Golden Eule 36 

III.— The Prodigal Son 54 

IV.— "There's a Good Time Coming" 73 

V. — -Turning Over a New Leaf 91 

VI.— Taking Care of Number One.... 110 

VII.— Penny Wise and Pound Foolish 127 

VIII. — Cleanliness is next to Godliness 145 

IX. — A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed 164 

X.— Five Shillings and Costs 183 

XL— Saturday Night 206 

XII. — There's nae Luck about the House 225 

XIII.— The Road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions 244 

XIV.— Poor Richard's Almanac 264 

XV.— Waste Not, Want Not......... 282 

(3) 



4 CONTENTS. 

LECTUM PAOB 

XVL— Tell the Truth, and Shame the Devil 302 

XVIL— The Seventh Commandment 321 

XVIII.— The Street.— Part 1 310 

XIX.— The Street.— Part II 35S 

XX.— Stop Thief 377 

XXL— The Devil's Meal ia all Bran 395 



CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 



There is a complaint, in England, that there are few great 
preachers now, belonging to the Established Church (Protes- 
tant Episcopalian) of that country. Dr. Trench, Dean of 
Westminster, Dr. Croly, the Rev. Henry Melville, the Rev. 
Daniel Moore, Dr. Hook, Dr. McNeile of Liverpool, Dr. 
Villiers, Bishop of Carlisle, Rev. F. D. Maurice, the Rev. 
Hugh Stowell of Manchester, and a few others appear to 
stand almost alone, in the Church of England, as eminent 
preachers,— as divines not only endowed with surpassing 
eloquence, but also as highly successful in their teaching. 
For to compose a good sermon and deliver it in an impressive 
manner constitutes one thing, and to plant conviction into 
the listeners' minds constitutes another. The mere elocu- 
tionary art, the literary power of composition, may be acquired 
by study and a quick intellect; but the fear and love of God, 
which breathes vitality into pulpit oratory, cannot be gained 
by any human effort. 

At this moment, the most powerful, effective, and eloquent 
preachers in " the old country," are to be found out of the 
pale of the Established Church, and in the ranks of what is 
called Dissent. The Methodists, among whom, in the early and 

( 5 ) 



t> CRITICAL AN*D BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 

difficult days of that religious organization, anxiously labored 
such divines as Wesley, Whitefield, and Fletcher of Madeley, 
whose life and death are equally instructive, by the great 
lessons which they teach,— the Methodists, widely spread 
over all parts of Great Britain and Ireland, emphatically form- 
ing what may be called " The Poor Man's Church," have 
many very able and eloquent preachers, whose ministrations 
are in the highest degree edifying and instructive. There 
are numerous other religious persuasions, possessing teachers 
who, in the pulpit, are at once eloquent, earnest, and success- 
ful. The names of Dr. Raffles of Liverpool, the Rev. John 
Angel James of Birmingham, the Rev. Alexander Fletcher 
of London, and a long array of spiritual pastors, whose very 
lives may be said to preach, who shun notoriety, and labor only 
to gather their hearers into the fold of the Good Shepherd of 
souls, are known far and wide throughout the Christian world, 
not alone because of the genius of the men, but of the practi- 
cal piety of the lessons which they teach. 

Such men do not live and labor for distinction or emolument. 
They covet not worldly praise, but do their Master's errand 
without ostentation. They do not seek to attract public at- 
tention by eccentricity of manner or of language. They de- 
vote themselves to the mission which they undertake, and 
heed not what reproach worldly minds may cast upon their 
labors. There are thousands of able, earnest, eloquent preach- 
ers, all over the world, for missionary zeal has scattered 
them widely among all nations, carrying with them -ood ti- 
dings of great joy which the Gospel reveals, who are content 
to let their years glide on in obscurity, confident that such is 
God's good will, and that he has placed them, in his omniscient 
providence, precisely where they can do most good. The 
self-devotion of the humbler ministers of religion— we speak 
not of the magnates who fill large churches in great cities— 



CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 7 

is very wonderful to the merely secular mind, which recognizes 
glory and honor only in high position and worldly wealth, 
and does not see that the noblest purpose to which the hu- 
man mind can devote its energies is the advancement of true 
religion upon earth. So is it across the water, and so, we 
may say with all thankfulness, in this great country too, which 
competes, not unsuccessfully, with all other nations, in reli- 
gious earnestness, in the production of biblical literature, in 
the spread of scriptural education, and in missionary enter- 
prise. We must not forget, when we speak of the mother- 
country, that even yet Dr. Cooke, of Belfast, in Ireland, takes 
rank, far advanced though his years be, among the most elo- 
quent and successful preachers of the age 5 nor that Scotland, 
which so proudly cherishes the memory of Chalmers, still 
possesses Guthrie and Candlish. For obvious reasons, we do 
not single out, in this notice, the names of eminent American 

preachers. 

The high character of the Preacher is sometimes thought 
too lightly of, or disregarded. Were a man to visit us, 
clothed with high powers, and bearing gracious promises from 
an earthly potentate, we would receive him with all due re- 
spect, pay him all usual honor, and be grateful for the boon 
he brought or promised. Far greater than an ambassador 
from any human power, is he who stands in the pulpit, to 
teach to man the saving truths revealed in the holy and in- 
spired Word of God. In that pulpit he stands, only a human 
being like ourselves ; but his mission invests him with a dig- 
nity which, simply as a man, he would have no claim to. In 
the pulpit, teaching the lessons which the Gospel gives, the 
preacher really should be considered as the messenger, the 
servant, the orator of God himself. He has to persuade, as 
well as to teach. It is not enough that his own mind is filled 
with the glorious truths which he is commissioned to com- 



b ClilTICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 

municate to all mankind; but lie lias to imbue other minds 
rhem also. Not enough that lie feels — he must endea- 
vor 10 impress the feeliDg into the heart, not alone the head, 
cry person who hears him. As the parable tells us, some 
of the seed maybe choked up with thorns ; some may fall 
upon stony places, where, because they have no root, they 
wither awa}' ; some may fall by the way-side, where the fowls 
come and devour them up ; some may fall into good ground, 
and bring forth fruit, some an hundred fold, some sixty fold, 
some thirty fold. He addresses his congregation, as a divine 
messenger, and the whole subtlety of his intellect, the depth 
of Ills information, the affluence of his language must be com- 
bined, with God's blessing, to make God's power, promises, 
justice, and mercy sink deeply and effectively into men's 
souls. He has not only to declare the Truth, but to bring 
his hearers to know and feel and practice it. The ministra- 
tion in the pulpit is necessarily peculiar. If subtle argumeut 
alone could convert sinners, the process might as well be done 
in the preacher's library* as in the pulpit. But more than 
human intellect is needed. Men of limited learning and 
small pretensions, of rude manners and rough appearance, — 
such as were many of those who did so much good to God's 
cause, under John Wesley; men with worn garments and 
labor-hardened hands; men who literally knew nothing of 
letters, save what the Book of books taught them, addressed 
multitudes upon the vital question of repentance and faith, 
and Dumbers were converted, who thereupon became, in turn, 
stical exemplifies of the mercy of God. What caused 
this? — for a cause there must have been. Uncultured, un- 
:id apparently uncared fur, these preachers were 
mad and convincing, and eloquent by the grace of 

Grod. It was the Saviour's command, to spread the Gospel, 
h they were carrying out, and that made them powerful; 



CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 9 

just as, at the feast of Pentecost, after the Crucifixion, the 
Holy Spirit miraculously descended upon the Apostles, filling 
their minds, and bestowing upon them the gift of speaking to 
all nations in their own numerous tongues. And thus, even in 
the present time, it cannot be too much to believe that the 
ministers who, by His gracious permission, preach the Word of 
God, are more or less filled with the Holy Ghost, when they 
exercise the pastoral office, and preach the glad tidings of 
Salvation. So certainly, also, as nature gives various faculties 
to various men, does she peculiarly fit the preacher for his par- 
ticular duties. A man may be eloquent at the bar, in the le- 
gislature, in the lyceum, in the popular assembly, and yet 
wholly inadequate, by any human training, for what may to 
him seem to be the not difficult labor of preaching a sermon. 

For this there must be a peculiar eloquence — a particular 
way of bringing home to the listeners' minds the great and 
sustaining truths of the Gospel. 

To enter into the consciences of the congregation — to hold 
up, as it were, a mirror to each in which he could see the re- 
flection of his own inner self — to pierce through the triple 
armor of indifference, contempt, and carelessness, — to awaken 
him to a conviction of his own insufficiency and his Saviour's 
great sacrifice, — this is the duty of the preacher, ordained by 
God to do His own work ; and no learning however deep, no 
intellect however powerful, no imagination however rich, no 
eloquence however thrilling, can do this work, unless there be 
sustaining sanction and inspiration from on high. The mys- 
teries of science, the buried secrets of antiquity, the hoarded 
treasures of learning, the delicate wonders of art, the lustrous 
gems of poetry, the exquisite charms of music, can all be mas- 
tered by no very extraordinary efforts of the human intellect ; 
but to preach so that in his full security of self-pride or care- 
lessness, the sinner's consciousness shall be awakened, so that 



10 CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 

he desires to enter upon the processes of Belief and Faith, 
which will save his soul alive, is not to be done, we believe, 
by any preacher, without special inspiration from God. To 
awaken the conscience and the consciousness of the sinner; 
to pierce through the mail of indifference, or disbelief, or cold- 
ness with which he has enveloped his heart ; to compel him 
to hear and to believe; to show him how dark is his mind and 
how feeble are all human substitutes for a trusting faith ; to 
point out the way and mode of a reconciliation with a Saviour, 
long suffering and slow to anger : these are what the preacher 
has°to do. It is the sinner whom he has to call to repentance, 
and where he does this efficiently, as he often does, it is God's 
own will which gives him the ability to do it, God's own spirit 
which breathes a holy influence over the blessed work of faith, 
grace, and reconciliation. 

What, in an ordinary place, and upon a merely worldly sub- 
ject, would probably decidedly influence the mind of a large 
assembly, would possibly not succeed in the pulpit. For hu- 
man intellect alone docs little avail there. Rhetoric, imagi- 
nation, poetry, metaphysics, and scholastic logic may avail in 
a secular arena, but a peculiar quality or form of mind is 
wanted in the pulpit. There, finely elaborated sentences 
have no weight, no force. There, simple and sublime truths 
and hopes of Revelation cannot be stated in language too plain. 
The ignorant as well as the highly educated arc to be add: 
at one and the same time, and the discourse must be adapl 
each and to all. The preacher may bring to his work the re- 
sources of a i ed mind, but the great point is— to be 
plain and practical. It must be the pleading of a fellow-sin- 
net ftnd r ,.n, P w ith oth< r Sinners and sufferers,— the 
OUtpWlring Of a mind which has itself sorrowed over sin, and 
which, Banotified by Faith, has isolated itself from worldly am- 



CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 11 

bition and desire, and dedicated itself to point out to others 
the path to Eternal Light. 

Preaching may be said to reflect the spirit of the time and 
country. Here and in England, the style of composition will 
immediately show at what period a volume of sermons was 
written. Of late years, during which vital religion has been 
preached more than at any time since the ministration of John 
Wesley and George Whitefield, sermons contain comparatively 
few classical allusions, such as were formerly introduced to 
exhibit the erudition of the preacher. At a period when such 
a member of the English hierarchy as Dr. Tate, Bishop of 
London, preaches to a large congregation of omnibus-men, 
ostlers, stable-boys, conductors, drivers, horse-keepers, and so 
on, in an omnibus yard, in the city of London, we" may easily 
predicate that far-fetched and high sounding allusions to class- 
ical literature and antiquarian lore will scarcely find favor with 
preacher or congregation. That pedantry has had its day. In- 
stead of it, the preacher uses the plainest and most intelligi- 
ble language. See, for example, the sermons of Mr. Spurgeon, 
one of the most popular preachers of the day ; learn how ex- 
tremely effective these discourses have been; and then satisfy 
yourself, by perusal, that his language is unadorned, plain, and 
even familiar. 

It is deplorable, but probably inevitable under the existing 
circumstances of society, that there is a great want of church 
accommodation in great cities. When money has to be annu- 
ally disbursed as rental for sittings in a place of religious 
worship, the amount, if the household be large, is prohibitory 
upon the great bulk of- the working classes, who constitute 
the bone and sinew of the population. When thousands upon 
thousands of dollars are the stipendiary income of " popular 
preachers," and the place of worship often is a monetary in- 
vestment on the part of its proprietors, g)ew-rents will be, as 



12 CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 

they generally are, enormous. "We suspect that the People, 
emphatically so to be called, would be constant church- 
there were free church sittings for them. A hundred years 
ago, when Wesley and Whitefield were engaged on their mis- 
sion of preaching the Gospel every where, the bulk of their 
congregations were the artisans, the mechanics, the laborers, 
the petty tradesmen, the small shop-keepers,— all who, in 
fact, in those days, were contemptuously designated " the 
lower classes," yet are five-eighths of the general population. 
Wherever there is an evil, Providence usually supplies a 
remedy. For example, the Lectures in this volume, which 
have been not only popular but beneficial, were delivered at 
Concert Hall, in Liverpool, (England,) to the working-classes 
of that great commercial and industrial town, who were unable 
to attend the churches, for want of means to pay for sittings. 
In point of .met, they are a< much sermons as lectures, and were 
spoken by a clergyman. He delivered them on Sunday after- 
noons to persons of all religious denominations, and usually had 
from two to three thousand auditors, packed closely together, 
while hundreds have been compelled to go away, from want 
of even standing-places. This large congregation is chiefly 
composed of men,— with a slight sprinkling of women, in the 
proportion of five to the hundred : of artizans and skilled la- 
borers, about 60 per cent; of unskilled laborers, 15 per cent; 
the remainder of young men in offices and shops. 

Mr. II. Stowell Brown has won the confidence of his hearers 
— by his ability ) by the conformance of his practice to his 
teaching ; by the intelligible plainness and shrewdness of his 
l :m yhisunmi rity and earnestness ; by 

hi s B [Hngj which gives him more influence than if he 

were simply a lay teacher; and, in no small degree, by the 
well known fact that he himself has actually belonged to and 
% 



CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 13 

labored, with his own muscle and brain, among the very 
laboring classes whom he especially addresses. 

Some biographical particulars respecting this devoted, able, 
and successful pastoral teacher will not be out of place here. 

Hugh Stowell Brown is the minister of Myrtle street Baptist 
Chapel, Liverpool, and is not yet 36 years old. On August 10, 
1823, he was born in Douglas, the capital of the Xs]e of Man, 
(where his father held ecclesiastical preferment, as a clergy- 
man of the Established. Church of England,) and is nephew 
of another celebrated Manx clergyman, the Rev. Hugh Sto- 
well, of Manchester. 

Educated in Douglas, chiefly at the Grammar school there, 
young Brown was sent to England, at the age of 15, to learn 
the mystery of land-surveying. He devoted two years to the 
drudgery of this business, and then proceeded to Wolverton, 
one of the great stations of the London and North-western 
Railroad, situated between London and Birmingham, to learn 
engineering. In this occupation he continued until he was 
21 years old. He actually drove a locomotive engine on the 
London and North-western Railroad for half a year. About 
this time, having reached the years of manhood, Mr. Brown 
resolved to carry out a purpose which had been brooding in 
his mind for some time. He determined to abandon the 
secular profession, which afforded him every prospect of 
advancement and emolument, and become a clergyman of the 
Church of England, even as his father and uncle were. He 
returned to his native town, and at King's College there, pro- 
ceeded through the usual three years of study. Doubts as to 
whether the baptismal doctrines of the Church of England 
were in accordance with the "Word of God arose in his mind, 
and the end was that he became a Baptist. 

However, he did not abandon the desire and design of 
entering into the Ministry. He officiated, for some time, as 



14 CKITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 

a city missionary in Liverpool, and his zeal, piety, and impres- 
sive eloquence caused him to be frequently solicited to preach 
in Myrtle street Chapel, as occasional assistant to the late 
Rev. Mr. Lister, who had been its minister for nearly half a 
century. On the retirement of this venerable pastor, Mr. 
Brown was appointed to succeed him, and entered upon this 
charge, which he still holds, in January 1848, in his twenty- 
fifth year. Gradually he became one of the recognized leaders 
of the Baptist body in Liverpool, with local influence which 
each year increases. 

By seceding from the Church of England, Mr. Brown dis- 
pleased many of his relatives and friends, and was believed to 
have hereby seriously injured his temporal prospects. But 
he acted, as Christian men should act, " for conscience' sake;" 
he seriously deliberated before he decidedly acted, and the 
" still small voice" of his own heart breathed God's benison 
upon the deed. 

Mr. Brown, besides possessing talents of no ordinary extent, 
is an accomplished scholar. For the most part he owes his 
acquisitions of learning to his own industry. He read a good 
deal, when be was working as an engineer, after the comple- 
tion of his daily labor, and (what fixes information deeply 
within the mind,) he meditated upon what he had read. 
Resisting the usual temptations to waste bis leisure time, he 
thus improved it. Nay, he taught himself, even while at 
work, for his first Greek exercises were written with a piece 
of chalk inside the fire box of a railway locomotive engine ! 

h\ Brown, feeling that the People wanted 
instruction, commenced his Sunday afternoon lectures in Con- 
cert Hall, Liverpool. The lecture, he shrewdly thought, would 
allow him to treat of various classes of subjects which the ser- 
mon does not touch. His lectures extend over a large range 
of subjects, social and moral, as well as religious. He not 



CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 15 

only alludes to, but freely discusses matters of daily occurrence. 
He hesitates not "to point a moral" from, passing subjects. 
Thus there is a perpetually fresh interest in what he says. 
He speaks to the people as one of themselves— only, from his 
calling, from a higher level He speaks to them in familiar 
language, using familiar illustrations. He does not scold, nor 
bully, nor affright them — as some preachers do. He brings 
his common sense to bear upon their common sense, and makes 
himself understood, fle tells the truth, without exaggeration, 
and earnestly argues on it. He teaches a great class hitherto 
much neglected. He shows them that, even in this life, vice 
and immorality, sin and irreligion inevitably have penal con- 
sequences. 

He is fond, too, of applying proverbs— a description of terse 
philosophy which the mass of the English people are familiar 
with, and, indeed, abundantly use, in 'their ordinary discourse, 
to illustrate their meaning. Some of the most striking of his 
Lectures have proverbs for their titles — such as "There's a 
good time coming," — " Penny wise and pound foolish," — 
" Cleanliness is next to Godliness," — " A Friend in need is a 
Friend indeed," — "The Road to Hell is paved with Good in- 
tentions,"— " Waste not, Want not,"— and "The Devil's 
meal is all Bran." One of the best Lectures in this volume 
had Franklin's " Poor Richard's Almanac" for its subject, and 
is, in fact, a discourse upon the "wise saws and modern in- 
stances" of that worldly wise production. 

Other and graver topics are introduced, with equal skill and 
effect. One very touching Lecture, upon the Seventh Com- 
mandment, is said, and we can well believe it, to have created 
such a sensation in Liverpool that over 40,000 copies of it 
were sold, many of the purchasers being that unfortunate class 
who constitute " the Great Social Evil" of large populations. 
There are two addresses " On the Streets," full of argument 



16 CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 

based on observation, and, for earnest, common sense, practi- 
cal statements, and clear reasoning, commend ua to Mr. Brown's 
comments on the Lord's Prayer, the Golden Rule, Saturday 
Night, and the homilies against Cheating, under the quaint 
heading of "Stop Thief \" and against Drunkenness, under 
the title of " Five Shillings and Costs." Of this last, as many 
as 45,000 copies have been sold. 

It may be enquired, What have been the results of this Lec- 
turing ? As many as from 2000 to 3000 working persons have 
been induced to spend their Sunday afternoons listening to the 
teaching of Mr. Brown,— many of whom, no doubt, would 
otherwise have yielded to the temptations which in large towns 
so abundantly beset the working classes to the injury of morals, 
health, and means. These Lectures, which arc religious but 
not sectarian, have induced very many persons who heard 
them, to attend various places of worship; as might be ex- 
pected, many have preferred placing themselves under Mr. 
Brown's stated ministrations in his own Church. 

Having a high opinion of the literary merit, as well as of 
the religious and moral power of Mr. Brown's Lectures, I 
have not hesitated to comply with the request of the American 
publisher, to give such information relative to the author as 
personal and other knowledge enables me to communicate. 

R. Siielton Mackenzie 

Philadelphia, June, 1859. 



LECTURE I 



THE LORD S PRAYER. 



One of the highest honors conferred on man, perhaps 
the very highest, is, that he is enabled to hold communion 
with his God by prayer. Certainly the question may 
be asked, Why should we pray at all, seeing that God, 
if there be a God, must know all our words before we 
express them, and works all things according to the 
determinate counsel of his own will ? But we do not 
pray in order to inform the Divine Being of our necessi- 
ties and desires, yet we thus acknowledge our dependence 
upon him, and profess our trust in him. He has himself 
ordained this method of holding communication with him; 
and however men may choose to perplex themselves in 
reasoning upon the philosophical bearings of this subject, 
prayer seems to be almost an instinct of the human heart, 
a law of our nature, which, however it may be kept in 
abeyance under ordinary circumstances, often comes into 
striking operation in great emergencies, such as a terrific 
storm at sea, a severe illness, or the clanger of losing a 
much-loved friend. On such occasions, men pray who 
never prayed before ; and scepticism itself, in times of 
deep distress and fearful apprehension, often bends its 
2 (17) 



18 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

stubborn knees, and would fain take refuge beneath the 
shadow of God's throne. 

In the exercise of this great privilege, we need 
instruction. We ought to know the character of Him to 
whom we pray; we ought to know the nature of tl 
requests which it is right to offer at his footstool. In 
that form of supplication generally known as the Lord's 
Prayer, Jesus Christ has given us this instruction; and 
in offering the requests which that prayer contains, we 
may rest assured that we offer nothing unwise, nothing 
unacceptable. The King of Heaven has here given us, 
in his own handwriting, the very petition which we are 
to present at his throne, as expressive at once of our 
w T ants and of his will. This prayer is often uttered in a 
formal, and even in a superstitious spirit, as if in the 
mere words there were some mysterious charm ; and it 
is frequently offered by persons who are perfectly sincere 
and earnest, but who are not at all aware of its great 
compass and marvellous amplitude of meaning. To 
understand this prayer in all its fullness, it must be care- 
fully studied. It is so simple, that it may be intelligently 
offered by a child; it is so profound, that the wisest men 
have never exhausted its stores of meaning. I have no 
doubl thai this justly \ en ■ nted 

by many of my hearers: T would fain hone that it is 
■ I by them all: and my object on this 
bis glorious model of prayer I 
the formality and '.ion which in many minds are 

associated with it, to explain it in as brief and intelligible 
a manner as I can, and to point out some of those less 
obvious but very valuable truths which the prayer 



THE LORD'S PRAYER. 19 

contains, but which, in consequence of your not having 
given much attention to the subject, may have escaped 
your observation. I invite you, therefore, to join with 
me, for a short time, in listening to the greatest of all 
instructors, as he teaches us how to pray. For this, it 
M worthy of notice, is what he teaches. He does not tell 
us that we ought to pray, or why we ought to pray; he 
does not urge us to engage in this work ; no, he takes it 
for granted that we, as reasonable creatures, and not 
brute beasts, are quite sensible that prayer is a duty and 
a privilege; he takes it for granted that there is no 
unwillingness to pray: just as the Bible never enters 
into arguments to prove the existence of a God, because 
it assumes that no man will be such a fool as to doubt 
God's existence ; so it is remarkable that Christ assumes 
a general, if not universal, conviction and sense of the 
reasonableness of prayer ; he pays respect to the dignity 
of human nature by making this assumption, and therefore 
proceeds to tell us, not why we should pray, but in what 
manner this recognised duty should be performed, this 
acknowledged privilege exercised. 

And first he tells us how we are to address God, " Our 
Father which art in heaven." See what light these 
words throw upon the character of the Divine Being. 
They tell us that he is not the angry, cruel, vindictive 
tyrant whom most ■ of the heathens consider him to be ; 
they tell us that this world and its inhabitants are not 
under the dominion of some cold, heartless, iron-bound 
necessity or fate, as many philosophers have taught; 
they tell us that while God is our Creator, our King, and 
our Judge, he is also our Friend, and more than our 



20 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

Friend, our Father. It ought to be a source of unspeak- 
able satisfaction to have from such an authority such a 
statement, as to the character of God, and his relationship 

to us. A thoughtful man may well be astonished as he 
reads these words, and finds that he, a poor, weak, 
icmorant, sinful creature, has a right to call the glonoft 
Deity his Father. He will very naturally ask on what 
this right is founded ; and the foundation of this right, I 
believe°, you will find to be this, the fact that « God sent 
forth his Son" Jesus Christ for this purpose, amongst 
others, that, he taking our nature, and becoming one of 
us, we might through Mm "receive the adoption of sons." 
There are some who, leaving Christianity aside, venture 
to call God their father, because he created them, or 
because of man's mental and moral resemblance to God ; 
but these seem to be very insufficient reasons, and the 
only satisfactory principle upon which I can venture to 
stand upon such intimate terms with the Divine Being, 
and upon which I can dare to call God my Father, is 
this: "Ye are all the children of God, through faith in 
Christ Jesus." It is through recognising him as "the 
Brightness of the Father's glory and the express Image 
of his Person," through recognising him as our elder 
brother, that we are enabled, without presumption, without 
impudence, to address God as our Father in heaven. 
Tanght by Jesus Christ thus to think of Cod, let this 
end e ar ingname assure us that we are the objects, not of 
his wrath, but of his love; that he pi thai, like 

every other right-hearted father, he is willing to forgive 
his children when they express contrition for their sms; 
and that, like every other wise father, he will subject us 



THE LORD'S PRATER. 21 

to such discipline and chastisement as will correct and 
improve us; for "he that spareththe rod, hateth his son, 
but he that loveth him, chasteneth him betimes." And 
let this name of Father teach us the duty of confiding in 
God, of loving him, of obeying him. Moreover, it is to 
be observed that we_ are taught to call God our Father ; 
Christ will not have us pray for ourselves alone. The 
plural pronoun runs through this prayer. It is not, Give 
me this day my daily bread, but, " Give us this day our 
daily bread;" it is not, Forgive me my trespasses, but 
"Forgive us our trespasses;" it is not, Lead me not into 
temptation, but, "Lead us not into temptation;" it is 
not, Deliver me from evil, but, "Deliver us." And so 
I am not to think of myself alone, but, when I pray for 
my daily bread, I am to pray as earnestly that every 
poor fellow-creature may have sufficient food ; and when 
I pray that I may be forgiven, I am taught to pray with 
equal fervor for the forgiveness of others. There may 
be some one whom you despise, some one whom you hate ; 
unless you cease to despise and hate him, you cannot 
pray this prayer, for the word our associates that man 
with you, compels you to pray for him, teaches you that 
it is no use praying for yourself, unless you are prepared 
to pray also for him ; and so this plural pronoun is as a 
golden thread of charity and love, so closely woven with 
the prayer, that no man with hatred in his heart, no man 
who does not love his brother, and is not in charity with 
all men, can in sincerity offer up these supplications at 
the throne of God. Further, we address God as our 
Father who is in Heaven ; and this allusion to Heaven is 
added probably to remind us of our Father's greatness 



22 LECTURES TOR THE PEOPLE. 

and dory, to check that too great familiarity which the 

t -possibly enconn 
ell as confidence should enter into 
pirit of prayer ; to remind us also that our Father, 
unlike all earthly par< : :ifinite ill lorn and 

his power; when we think of him as our Father, we know 
that he is willing to help us; when we think of him as 
our Father in heaven, we know that he is able to help 
And further, these words, " Our Father who art in 
Heaven," are suggestive of our future home, reminding 
us in our prosperity that this world is not our r 
assuring us in our adversity that " there remaineth a rest 
for the people of God." 

The first petition which we are taught to offer to our 
Father in Heaven is, "Hallowed he thy name." The 
first petition which we in our selfishness would he likely 
to offer would he a prayer for some personal henefit, hut 
our Great Instructor teaches us to seek first the glory of 
our God; Hallowed he thy name"— thy name of God, 
thy name of Creator, King, Judge, hut above all thy 
name of Father; let all men know and feel that thou art 
their Father. Somewhat similar to this is the next two- 
fold petition, " Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on 
, i: -- still, yon Bee, prayer for 
kept Lack, and we are taught first 
the welfare of the whole world. It is a mistake to 
.. that the words, "Thy will he dune." ha. 
!e to a spirit of resignation in times of 
kVe this • no donbt; and to u; 

. when we are in the midst of tronble, is 
its that man can possibly 



THE lord's prayer* 23 

achieve. " Thy will be done" is a prayer for all the af- 
flicted in mind, body, or estate. May they be enabled 
thus to pray, to feel that those troubles, which they 
have not brought upon themselves by their own miscon- 
duct, are the expression of their Father's will, are wisely 
ordained as a necessary part of their education, and will 
be overruled for their highest good. But these words, 
" Thy will be done," stand not by themselves ; they form 
part of a sentence, " Thy will be done on earth as it is in 
heaven." And when we speak thus, we utter our desire 
that God may reign in all men's hearts, and that the 
whole world may know and do his will; an$ I think that 
we must be convinced that it never will be right with the 
world until this prayer is fully answered, until we have 
heaven, and not hell, upon earth. If there is ever to be 
universal freedom, universal justice, universal purity, 
universal civilization, universal peace, amongst the peo- 
ples of the world, to what are we to look for the produc- 
tion of such a change ? I know of but one instrumen- 
tality by which it can ever be accomplished. If the 
work is done at all, it must be done by Christianity ; it 
must be done through the universal dissemination, and 
universal acceptance, of those principles which are deliv- 
ered to us in the Gospel ; and we pray for the world's 
highest good, we pray for that which alone can deliver it 
from its ignorance, its miseries, and its wrongs, when we 
pray, " Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as 
it is in heaven." 

Thus far, then, we have prayed, not for ourselves, not 
for our own special advantage, but for the glory of our 
God, and the benefit of mankind at large ; and the pre- 



24 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

cedence given to this class of petitions is a stern rebuke 
to that selfishness which is apt to creep even into our re- 
ligion. He who gave himself for the world's redemption 
teaches us first to pray for the world's enlightenment, 
conversion, improvement, and perfection ; and then, hav- 
ing first learned to pray for all mankind, we are at lib- 
erty to ask blessings for ourselves, and to pray, " Give 
us this day our daily bread." There is deep significance 
in this prayer. It teaches us to be moderate in our de- 
sires, to ask for bread, in which word are of course in- 
cluded all things necessary for our comfort — food, rai- 
ment, lodging, firing ; but I should say that this word 
certainly excludes luxuries, excludes the desire for great 
wealth. And it is worthy of notice that the most covet- 
ous man does not venture to pray that God would render 
him rich. Men will pray for wisdom, for health, for the 
lives of those whom they love, for resignation, for pa- 
tience, for deliverance from danger; but who ever heard 
of a man asking God for a fortune, praying that he 
might be worth £50,000 ? No ! every one feels that such 
a prayer would be foolish and wrong, every one feels that 
daily bread is all that he has a right to ask for at the 
hands of God. But the prayer must not be mder- 

I. as to be regarded in the light of a supplication 
which gives encouragement to idleness. An idler may 
pray his prayer from morning to night, and pray in 
When we offer tliis prayer aright, we ask God for that 
bodily strength, that manual -kill, that intellectual power, 
and that condition of trad- an 1 commeroe, which shall 
enable us to earn our daily bread. This is not a prayer 
to be set free from the nee of working, but a prayer 



THE lord's prayer. 25 

to be constantly enabled to work, and to have the con- 
stant opportunity of working. You see that this prayer 
is one especially adapted to the poor, at all events to 
the working-people ; and from this we learn how much 
Christ considered the lot of the sons of toil. There 
are some, there are many, who you may say have no 
need to offer such a petition as this. Their daily bread 
has been provided, and, humanly speaking, it is safe. They 
have money that is well invested, so well that nothing 
short of national bankruptcy can ever reduce them to 
want ; and is it not something rather absurd for a man 
worth <£500Q a year, on the very best securities in land 
or in the funds, to ask day by day that God would give 
him his daily bread, seeing that God has given it him 
already? If the prayer were, Give me this day my 
daily bread, it would be scarcely the prayer for a rich 
man, although still it is not impossible for a rich man to 
come to poverty, and more wisdom is often required to 
keep money than to make it. But the rich man is taught 
that if his bread is safe he is to remember others. " Give 
us this day our daily bread." And though you may be 
in very good circumstances, well employed, in possession 
of money that you have saved, prepared for rainy days, 
yet if you have a heart at all you will pray this prayer, 
for there are thousands who are unable to procure their 
daily bread, who are struggling desperately for a bare 
subsistence ; and there are not a few who until recently 
were surrounded by all the comforts of life, whose all has 
been suddenly swept away by the desolating tempest of 
commercial failure, and they have to consider how they 
are now to earn their daily bread ; how now, no longer 



20 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

young, no longer stro i must heverl enter 

ion with a mo ared 

and ready to encounter every difficulty. 
For all such di I ones let as pray that God would, 

in the di -us of his providence, open their way, 

and arrange for their subsistence and comfort. And 
therefore this is a prayer for the rich as well as for the 
p 00r — ; , prayer which the rich man can oifer for others, 
if not for himself — a prayer which teaches us to think 
of the helpless, the unemployed, the distressed, and not 
only think of them, but to pity them, and help them ac- 
cording to our power. Thus the prayer, "Give us this 
day our daily bread," is a very great and comprehensive 
petition. It teaches us that for all things we are depend- 
ent upon the bounty of our Heavenly Father ; it teaches 
us to moderate our desire-, and not to be in that haste to 
be rich which is the ruin of so many ; it teaches us in- 
■ dustriously to labor for our daily bread ; and it teaches 
us to have compassion on all our | and starving 

brother- and sisters. The plural pronoun brings all Buch 
within the co of this petition, "Give us this day 

our daily bread" — Give bread to-day, not to me only, 
but to all tli want — to the widow, to the orphan, 

to the man who is willing to work, but can get nothing to 
1, have mercy upon them all, and make me to 
be merciful I 

a\\. are in thi directed to pray for forgive- 

brespasses, as we forgive them 
t ; :;i: :• . ' Y, 'i sec thai our Saviour 

take- it For every man will be ready to ad- 

mit that he ha 1- that he has done wrong, that 



the lord's prayer. 27 

he has sinned. He does not suppose that any one can 
be so ignorant and stupid as to consider himself faultless, 
and therefore he puts into every man's mouth these 
words — "Forgive us our trespasses." No sensible man 
needs to be argued with on this point ; if he is accused 
of such or such a fault, he may refute the accu- 
sation, and prove himself, so far, innocent ; but sinless- 
ness he will never claim ; a full justification of himself 
in all things he will never attempt. To feel, and to feel 
deeply, that I have done wrong is the first step in reli- 
gion. Religion asks no man to prove himself innocent ; 
on the contrary, it requires him to confess himself guilty. 
As to men who boast that their consciences are clear, 
and defy the whole world to prove that they have ever 
done wrong, we can only say that they are great simple- 
tons. It is very probable that their consciences do not 
condemn them ; but why ? because they have no conscien- 
ces at all ; or because their consciences are so ignorant, 
so hardened, and so accustomed to what is wrong, that 
they cease to protest against wrong-doing. ISTo human 
conscience that is in good working order is clear ; and 
if you believe yourself sinless, allow me to say that you 
must be either an angel or an idiot. As to the nature 
and extent of any man's guilt, I have no right to pro- 
nounce judgment. I do not ask any one to confess to 
me ; I should be very sorry to make my memory the re- 
ceptacle of such nastiness as some men seem to take a 
pleasure in collecting. I only wish to convey to every 
man's conscience this truth, that he has done wrong, and 
that self-justification is impossible and absurd. And why 
should we be so anxio'us to make ourselves appear right- 



28 LECTURES FOR THE PEOrLE. 

eous, and to clothe, hide, or dissemble our faults ? For 
again let me remind you that God does not ask us to 
prove our innocence, he would much rather that we ac- 
Jedged our guilt. He did not listen to that boasting 
Pharisee, who could say, " I am not as other men are, 
extortioners, unjust, adulterers;" but the Publican's 
confession and prayer, " God be merciful to me a sin- 
ner," was listened to with joy. "Forgive us our tres- 
passes." When we utter these words we acknowledge 
that we have sinned, and we further acknowledge that we 
deserve to be punished for our sins, that there would be 
no injustice if we were condemned ; and we make this 
additional confession, that we cannot ourselves render 
compensation for our sins. "Forgive us our trespasses," 
or, as we may read it, "Forgive us our debts." He who 
asks the forgiveness of his debts is supposed unable to 
pay them. And God does not ask us to pay him the 
debts which' we have contracted. He is our greatest 
creditor, and our most merciful creditor likewise, inas- 
much as all he asks of us is that we ask him to forgive 
us. And he would never have authorised his Son Jesus 
Christ to tell us this, if it were not his purpose to for- 
give. It is worthy of all attention, too, that he makes 
no exceptions, that lie encourages every man to pray, 
Forgive me my trespasses, whatever those trespasses 
have been, however numerous, however atrocious, 
however long persisted in; the least guilty, and the 
most guilty, the youngest sinner, and the oldest, all 
encouraged to present this prayer, with the as- 
nee that God is willing to forgive them all. It is a 
great request ; some may not feel k to be so; some sup- 



THE lord's prayer. 29 

pose that God, instead of forgiving them, ought to reward 
them ; that thej are not in God's debt, but that God is 
in theirs ; but men who know themselves, and reflect 
upon their own character and conduct, and perceive the 
multitude of their offences, are fully conscious that they 
ask much when they pray, "Forgive us our trespasses." 
But let us not despair ; we have God's own authority for 
preferring this great request. It is not I, it is not any 
fallible man, who bids you pray on this wise ; it is He 
who can forgive, he to whom we are indebted, it is he 
himself who bids us thus confide in his love. And re- 
member he is our Father ; and you know well enough 
that, of all the requests which your child can make, if 
there be one which you are ready to grant, it certainly 
is the request that you would forgive him the wrong 
which he confesses. In asking God to forgive us our 
trespasses, we are not like rebels asking their sovereign 
to pardon them, we are not like culprits beseeching their 
judge to cancel or to commute the sentence passed upon 
them, but rather are we like children who tearfully im- 
plore their father to forgive their disobedience. Yes ; 
we are appealing to a Father's heart, and we shall not 
appeal in vain. And we are encouraged to expect for- 
giveness, not only because we ask it of our Father, but 
also because our Father, not regardless of the claims of 
justice, has visited our sins upon his sinless Son, who 
became sin for us, endured the cross, despised the shame, 
that God might be just as well as merciful in forgiving 
us all trespasses. 

But our Saviour has made this forgiveness conditional, 
"Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that 



30 LEI 

ast us." And lie lias most solemnly assured 
ug that if Qot men their t 

our Heavenly Father forgive us our tr< Is 

q, any one who lias tr inst you, any 

who lias slandered you, abused you, wronged you, 
! iled your character, defrauded you of your property, 

; any other way injured you— remember, you pray 
forgiven as you forgive, and therefore forgiveness 
on your own part, full and free forgiveness of each and 
all that have injured you, is a necessary preliminary to 
your offering this prayer ; first you must be in love and 
charity with all men. It is only fair, only reasonable, 
that we should be prepared to do for others what we ask 
God to do for us in this great matter of forgiveness. 
You say that it is very hard to forgive a man who has 
greatly wronged you, and that unless he makes some 
apology, some reparation, you won't forgive him. Well, 
Christ says nothing about apology and reparation here. 
He seems to require an unconditional forgiveness of 
those who trespass against us. It is hard, every one 
knows that it is hard, but every one also feels that it is a 
noble thing to do: and at all events, our own forgive] 
is made to depend upon our extension of forgiveness to 

othi 

And when we pray this prayer, "Forgive us our 
and while we think of our own sins, and ear- 
their pardon, let us particularly remember 
that the prayer is not, For 

let o the plural pronoun which is seen in all these 

, which in the former supplication teaches us to 

pity and to pray for all the needy and distressed, and 



THE LORD'S PRAYER. 31 

which here teaches us to pray for all the guilty and 
depraved. Forgive us our sins, forgive rne mine ; hut 
forgive all my brothers and sisters in this wide world, 
forgive them their sins too. As Christ has shaped this 
prayer, we cannot ■ offer it intelligently and properly, 
without praying for the world's forgiveness, when praying 
for our own. I cannot ask God to pardon me, without 
at the same time asking him to pardon all thieves, 
murderers, profligates, prostitutes, drunkards, liars and 
slanderers, profane swearers, Sabbath-breakers, misers, 
extortioners, tyrants, and all other wrong-doers. Such 
is the true compass of this prayer, "Forgive us our 
trespasses," forgive us all, "as we forgive them that 
trespass against us." 

Again, we are directed to pray, " Lead us not into 
temptation." A great deal might be said upon this 
clause, for its meaning is not quite so clear as that of 
the others : but in a brief address like this, a critical 
exposition is impossible, and, therefore, a very few obser- 
vations must suffice. Temptation of some evil or other 
is unavoidable. When a lad goes into a mercantile house 
or into a shop, to learn a business, he must be exposed 
to temptation. Employers often err in suddenly reposing 
too much confidence in one who has never been tested, 
and whose principles have not yet been thoroughly 
established ; but still, if confidence cannot be reposed in 
him, he cannot be of much service. It is not by being 
free from temptation, but by resisting temptation, that 
he can ever become valuable, or ever be fitted himself to 
engage in the arduous battle of life. "If ye have not 
been faithful in that which is another man's, who shall 



32 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

give you that which is your own?" Moreover, to expect 
that all this youth's companions in the place of bush 
will be highly moral persons, is to expect too much. 
Almost of necessity, he will be thrown into the society 
of some whose companionship will not have a beneficial 
tendency, but very much the contrary. Further, every 
large town abounds with snares and traps, the existence 
of which we may deplore, but cannot prevent, although 
much may be done to diminish their number, and to 
moderate their tempting power. Still, through more or 
less of this fire of temptation all men must pass ; and, 
depend upon it, such an ordeal is not only inevitable, it 
is useful. I do not think, then, that Jesus tells us to 
pray that we may never be exposed to any temptation 
to do wrong, for this, in such a world as ours, is impos- 
sible, and for creatures susceptible of moral discipline, 
such freedom from temptation is altogether undesirable ; 
but Jesus here teaches us to be self-distrustful. Self- 
reliance is a virtue of a very high and valuable order, 
when any question involving intellectual ability and 
energy is before us; but in morals, self-reliance is 
dangerous. It is well that a man should feel confident 
that he can carry out such and such a commercial project, 
for his confidence will go a long way towards the accom- 
plishment of his design; but little is to be hoped from the 
man who is confident that he can overcome any tempta- 
•• Let him that think tandeth, take heed lest 

he fall." The spirit of this 

allow us to b • 1 to temptations greater than our 

Mirth; that he would adapt our strength to all the 

temptations that may assail us; and further, this prayer 



THE lord's prater. 38 

evidently implies that we do not needlessly rush into 
temptation's way. If we pray, "Lead us not into 
temptation," we must not lead ourselves into temptation, 
a thing which multitudes are constantly doing. And, 
again, let us remember that we pray not for ourselves 
alone. There are many who are not exposed to very 
strong temptations — rich people, who are never tempted 
to act fraudulently ; old people, who have lost the fire of 
youthful pleasures, and are not strongly tempted to fall 
into profligate habits ; religious people, whose moral 
training has been carefully attended to, and who are 
repelled rather than attracted, disgusted rather than 
tempted, by the follies and vices of the world. But 
however superior such persons may be to the power of 
various temptations, this prayer teaches them not to 
forget those who are differently circumstanced and 
differently constituted, but to entreat that they may be 
preserved and kept through the power of God; that 
every brother, every sister, struggling with difficulty, and 
tempted to do wrong in order to surmount these difficul- 
ties, exposed to the seductions of pleasure, and conscious 
of only too much sympathy with evil, may be mercifully 
rescued from destruction, and be benefited through resist- 
ing, not destroyed through yielding to, the temptations 
of the world, the flesh, and the devil. 

There is one other request which seems all-inclusive, 
" Deliver us from evil." This is a prayer which con- 
fesses that we cannot deliver ourselves from evil ; and is 
there any wise man who thinks he can? From evil 
for which naturally you have no inclination, and to which 
nothing tempts you, perhaps you may deliver yourself; 
3 



3-i LECTURES FOE THE PEOPLE. 

and small thanks to you for delivering yourself from 
enemies that never attack you. But there are evils which 
do fasten themselves upon you. Sin assumes so mi 
shapes that it can adapt itself to all tastes and tempera- 
ments ; it can put on the appearance of an angel of light; 
it can argue most plausibly ; it can throw dust into our 
eyes ; it can take advantage of every weak point in our 
character ; it can find in the proud heart some nook to 
nestle in ; and therefore there is no man who is above 
the necessity for this prayer, " Deliver us from evil." 

And now to God let us render all the praise, for his 
is "the kingdom," whose coming and whose establish- 
ment all good and earnest hearts are longing for and 
striving for; his is "the power" that can give us our 
daily bread, that can forgive us our trespasses, that can 
save us from the force of temptation, and deliver us from 
all evil; and his is " the glory" of all the happiness and 
all the goodness that we can ever hope or desire to 
enjoy. Nor is the "Amen" without its value; placed 
at the close of this or any other prayer, it signifies the 
sincerity of our supplication ; the whole prayer is as it 
were gathered up into this one word— repeated in this one 
WO rd— Amen ! let it be so ; let every thing be as we have 
,d— Amen! It is a solemn word; it may be 
our oath, by which we swear that what 
l prayer we do really and earnestly dc- 

Thus I have attempted briefly to set forth the mean- 
er, in the hope that I may help some to 
. Lt intelli . devoutly, and with something like a 

f its gn and if we pray after 



THE LORD'S PRAYER. IS 

this manner, carefully considering every clause, and 
weighing every word, we shall feel that, short and simple 
as it is, this prayer contains the germ of every thought 
and every feeling which our most enlarged desires, when 
purified from evil, can prompt us to offer at our Heavenly 
Father's throne. 



oG LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 



LECTURE II. 



THE GOLDEN RULE. 

Amongst the recorded discourses of that greatest and 
best of all teachers, Jesus Christ, there is one which he 
delivered to a large congregation assembled on a hill side, 
and which from this circumstance is generally called the 
Sermon on the Mount. That discourse contains many- 
grand and wonderful sayings — none perhaps grander or 
more wonderful than this, "All things whatsoever ye 
would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them ; 
for this," says' the Great Teacher, "is the law and the 
prophets." This precept has by common consent been 
called "The Golden Rule;" and if the epithet golden is 
to be applied to anything, as expressive of value, excel- 
lence, and glory, there is no sentence that ever fell from 
the lips of men that can have a better claim, or indeed 
as good a claim, to this distinction, as that of which I 
am about to treat. For this rule I believe we stand in- 
bed to Jesus Christ, and to Jesus Christ alone ; although 
there are some who would rob him of the dory of it, and 
would have us believe that both Jews and heathens taught 
it long before Christ appeared in the world. But I believe 
that when we come to examine those Jewish and heathen 



THE GOLDEN RULE. 37 

maxims, "which are alleged to have anticipated Christ, we 
shall find that they are very different from that which we 
term " The Golden Rule." In some respects they resemble 
it, and resemble it so strongly, that at the first glance the 
Jewish and heathen rules and Christ's rule appear to 
be identical ; but the difference between them is very 
great, and very worthy of notice. For what is the 
Jewish maxim for which some claim equality with this 
Golden rule ? It is, I believe, to this effect, " Whatso- 
ever is hateful to thyself, that do not to thy neighbor." 
And the heathen maxim supposed to correspond with 
Christ's royal law is this, a Do not to others what you 
are unwilling to suffer from others." In this Gibbon 
thought that he had discovered in heathen literature the 
identical Golden Rule ; and therefore he sneers at Chris- 
tians for attributing that rule to Christ, and giving him 
the honor of first publishing it to the world. The Jew- 
ish and the heathen maxims are substantially the same, 
and they amount to this, "Whatsoever evil ye would not 
that men should do to you, do ye not such evil to them." 
Is this equivalent to Christ's precept ? By no means ! 
it is only the negative side of Christ's precept. The 
Jews and heathens tell us not to do to others the wrong 
which we would deprecate if inflicted upon us by them ; 
Christ teaches us to do that good to others which we 
would desire them to do to us. The Jews and heathens 
say, Don't be unjust or cruel to your neighbor, because 
you would not like him to be unjust or cruel to you ; 
Christ says, Be as just and as kind as possible to your 
neighbor, for you would like him to be as just and kind 
as possible to you. In fact, the Jews and heathens only 



38 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

tell us not to wrong others ; Christ tells us to benefit 
them to the utmost extent of our power. Are these max- 
ims the same, then ? Most certainly not. The Jewish 
and heathen maxims are only the law of strict justice ; 
is the law of love. He took those views and 
precepts, and gave them a higher form, added to them 
quite another element ; and if they taught men to be 
just, he taught them to be generous as well. I admit 
that these maxims were good ; let us call them silver rules ; 
but between them and Christ's precept there is certainly 
all the difference that exists between silver and gold. 

Now, many people take the silver rules of Jewish Rab- 
bis and heathen philosophers, and strangely mistake them 
for the Golden Rule of Christ, They think that if they 
have done nobody any harm they have fulfilled this glo- 
rious precept : and so, because you have never quarreled 
with your neighbor, never struck him, never blackened his 
character, or defrauded him of his property, you sup- 
pose that you "have done to him all things whatsoever you 
would that he should do to you ; whereas the fact only 
amounts to this, that you have abstained from doing to 
him what you would have him to abstain from doing to 
you. Now, not to injure your neighbor is one thing — to 
benefit him is quite another. But some people appear to 
overlook the ; character of Christ's command, and 

very unaccountable mann< 1 it as wholly nc- 

in the most complacent temper 
- you that to do as he would be done by is his rule, 
and he chalL I to prove that it is not his practice 

also. It would be a 7ery easy matter — at all events, not 
to very difficult a matter — to observe the Golden Rule, 



THE GOLDEN RULE. 6V 

if all that is required "were simply this, to do no man 
wrong ; but the Golden Rule is not satisfied with this , 
the Golden Rule reaches a great deal further than this : 
the Golden Rule first asks you what are those things 
which you wish your neighbour not to do to you, and 
tells you not to do those things to him ; and then the 
Golden Rule puts this question : What are those th 
which you wish your neighbor would do to you? and 
tells you to go and do those very things to him, if it is 
in your power to do so. The Golden Rule first says, You 
would not like your neighbor to defraud you, therefore 
you must not defraud him ; the Golden Rule next says, 
You would like your neighbor to pity and to help you in 
your distress, therefore in his distress you must pity and 
help him. And if we consider this, the positive require- 
ment of the Golden Rule, we shall perceive that many 
people who think that they observe it are altogether mis- 
taken ; it is the silver rule of justice, at the best, that 
they observe ; the golden rule of generosity is far beyond 
their mark. 

And if we are honest, I think we shall be obliged to 
say that the silver rule is the highest maxim that we 
have yet learned to honor. In fact, many persons will 
say, in plain terms, " If I am just, that's enough. If I 
do my neighbor no harm, what more can be required of 
me?" My friend, nothing more is required of you by 
the silver rules of Jewish Rabbis and heathen moralists ; 
but if you mean to be a Christian, you must make up 
your mind, and open your heart for a great deal more. 
I admit that it is something, yea, that it is much, if a 
man come up to the standard of the silver rule — if a man 



40 LECTURES EOF. THE PEOPLE. 

carefully abstain from inflicting upon others injury and 
injustice which lie would not have inflicted upon himself. 
I am afraid that the majority of us have scarcely come 
up to this point yet; hut Ave must aim at something higher 
than this; we are not perfect; we are not Christ-like; we 
are not Christians, unless not only strict justice, but also 
the most expansive generosity be firmly established in 
our hearts, and constantly shown forth in our conduct. 
A just man, who is nothing more than just, does not and 
cannot fulfil this right royal law ; he pays every man his 
due, and pays punctually and in full ; he is never guilty 
of slander ; he bears in his heart no ill-will to any one ; 
he does to no man what he would not have done to 
himself; but still he does not obey either the letter or 
the spirit of this command, "All things whatsoever ye 
would that men should do to you, do ye even so to 
them." 

This law can scarcely be misunderstood by any intelli- 
gent and conscientious man. Although Christ says, in 
unqualified terms, that we are to do to others all things 
that we would wish them to do to us, it is very plain that 
he can only mean all things that are really right. But 
this law, as it stands, with the unqualified " all things 
whatsoever," is liable to abuse on the part of the 
unconscientious. For instance, there stands a prisoner 
at the bar; lie has been tried for wilful murder; the 
jury, after careful deliberation, have returned a verdict 
of guilty, and the judge is putting on the black cap, and 
about to pronounce sentence of death. "Stop!" 
the prisoner, "your lordship professes to be a Christian, 
and to take the Golden Rule as your motto. Now, my 



THE GOLDEN RULE. 41 

lord, if you -were in my place in this dock, and I in yours 
upon that bench, you know very well that you would 
wish me to spare your life ; therefore I ask you to spare 
mine — to do to others as you would they should do to 
you." To this, his lordship might reply that he was not 
at liberty to act for himself; that, in fact, he was the 
representative of the whole nation in that act of passing 
sentence, and he might further say, " In hanging you, I 
am doing to others as I would they should do to me. I 
am doing, if not to you, to the people of this country, 
what I should wish them to do to me ; I am ridding them 
of a dangerous character ; I am consulting their safety, 
as I would wish them to consult mine." If every 
scoundrel is to plead the Golden Rule in mitigation of 
the punishment of his guilt, then there is an end of all 
public justice. The magistrate has his duties to the 
people, as well as to the criminal ; he must not wrong 
them, endanger them, out of pity for him; and as in 
administering the law, the magistrate is doing to the 
public and to the plaintiff what, if he were the plaintiff, 
he feels ought to be done to him, the magistrate, in 
sending a rogue to gaol, in transporting a burglar, and 
even in hanging a murderer, is doing, if not to the rogue, 
the burglar, and the murderer, to others, even to the 
nation, that justice which he would have done to himself; 
so that I am not at all sure that, even in sending a 
murderer to the gallows, both judge and jury are not 
most exactly fulfilling the Golden Rule. Take another 
case. A man is out of a situation, and wants to get into 
one. He comes to you, and asks you to give him a 
testimonial of character. You know that he is a worthless 



42 : OB THE PEOPLE. 

fellow, intemperate, indolent, perhaps not particular to a 
le about honesty ; but lie reminds you of the Golden 
K»u] ti to do to him as, if your circumstances 

>u would wish him to do to you. Now, 
if you refuse to give him a letter of introduction and 
emendation; or if, on giving him a letter, you told 
all the truth, he would probably complain that you have 
violated this great Christian law. But the fact is, that 
you have observed it, and that you would violate it if 
you did what he desires. You must consider not only 
the wishes of that good-for-nothing scapegrace, but also 
the rights of the person to whom he wants to be intro- 
duced. If that person introduced a man to you with a 
letter, asking employment for him, you would expect 
him to introduce a steady, honest man, or at all events 
to tell you all the truth about him ; and therefore you 
must do the same to your friend ; and, in refusing to 
give a letter of testimonial to a worthless man, or in 
warning your friend against him, you are fulfilling, not 
violating, the Golden Rule. The other day it was my 
lot, as it very often is, to be waited on by a scoundrel — 
a fellow whom I knew to be an impostor. He wanted 
me to help him ; and had the audacity to remind me that 
r had commanded me to do to other- as I would 
ke done I , , if I had complied with his request, I 

rascality ; I should 1 

aim a lift i. latory excursions, and should 

have helper! him to rob others; and therefore it was my 

duty, according to the Golden Rule, to show him the 

door, or rather, 1 think, I ought to have handed him 

to the poliee. This would have been the right way 



THE GOLDEN HULE. 4o 

of fulfilling, in such a case, the law, "All things what- 
soever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even 
so to them." I did not give him in charge; and therefore 
I have to confess that I did not act as a Christian ought 
to act; my Christian duty, in conformity with the 
Golden Rule, was most certainly to do all in my power to 
protect society from such a pest. Therefore the crimi- 
nal, the idler, the impostor, in vain plead this law, as if 
it were in their favor. It is not a law that connives at 
iniquity. Its spirit is essentially this — that I am to do 
to others all those just and generous things which I would 
fairly and reasonably expect others to do to me. Men 
may wish us to do things that are wrong, and plead that, 
if we were in their circumstances, we should wish them to 
do wrong things for us ; but the generosity of the Golden 
Rule must of course be restricted within the limits of 
justice. Consequently, if a man wishes you to bolster 
up his sinking credit, by false representations, and other 
underhand methods, well known in commercial circles ; if 
he wishes you to tell or to act a lie for him ; if he wishes 
you to lend or to enable him to borrow money, and urges 
the Golden Rule, telling you that you would expect and 
should have as much from him, you must not allow 
yourself thus to be imposed upon, for a solid substratum 
of truth and justice underlies all the generosities of the 
Golden Rule, and you are to do to others only those 
things which they could laivfully do for you, were the 
circumstances of the case reversed. And so I think 
we may dismiss, in a very summary manner, all those 
whining, canting rascals, who want us to do wrong, and 
to befriend them, by injuring ourselves, our families, or 



I LECTURES FOR TnE PEOPLE. 

soc 1 the Golden Rule, 

and say, If .. an( j Vou in onrgj yQU 

r behalf, what 
Rule does 
ih us u to love mercy," but it teaches us first "to do 
J usti l it is fulfilled, not by pardoning the crimi, 

nal, but by punishing him; not by recommending the 
good-for-nothing, but by warning men him; not 

by helping the idler, but by leaving him to starve, if ho 
won't work. This is the beauty, this is the glory, of the 
Golden Rule ; it is just— but it is more than just, it is 
generous— but it is more than generous, for it is justice 
and generosity combined. 

Having thus noticed the manner in which the Golden 
Rule may be misinterpreted and misapplied, it is now 
time to speak of its application, as one of the great prin- 
ciples under the guidance of which men ought to live. 
I believe there is not much diversity of opinion as to the 
value of this rule. It meets with almost universal ap- 
proval. Every one reminds his neighbour of it; almost 
every one boasts that he always observes it ; and from 
the great admiration with which the Golden Rule is re- 
garded, and the praises heaped upon it, it might be sup- 
posed that this precept really regulated all men's con- 
duct ; that all their words and all their works were carc- 
full y mea Le. Rut notwithstanding the 

amount of admiration with which this great principle so 
generally and almost universally commands, there is a 
general, an almost universal complaint that it is not 
Practical!; u le most generally recognised 

is rather this, not " \\\ ■ y e would that men should 



THE GOLDEN RULE. 45 

do to you," but "Whatsoever ye find that men do to 
you, do ye even so to them." People are perpetually 
saying to each other, " Do as you would be done by ;" 
but those who expect others to act thus to them, seem 
never to think that they also are to act thus to others. 
Now, instead of thus complaining of each other, and 
storming at each other, because this law is not observed, 
it will be a much more sensible course for every man to 
see to it that he himself, in all his conduct, acts as the 
law requires, for it is not given to us by its great Author, 
as an instrument of criticism and a means of detecting 
our neighbors' faults, but as a rule for the correction 
of our own. I dare say you can point to many a 
man, that you are even at this moment thinking of some 
man, who does not do as he would be done by ; but, pos- 
sibly, some one is thinking and saying just the same 
thing of you, and with quite as good reason. 

This, then, should be the ruling principle in all busi- 
ness transactions. In all such transactions, each party 
is, by this law, required to suppose himself in the posi- 
tion of the other, tu consider what he would have fair 
reason to expect were he in the position of the other, 
and to act accordingly. For instance, if you are a 
shopman, behind the counter, think what you would ex- 
pect if you were the customer and he the salesman ; you 
would expect — or if your knowledge of shops would pre- 
vent your expecting, you would, at all events, wish to be 
treated fairly ; you would very reasonably wish to be 
told the plain honest- truth about the articles submitted 
for inspection ; you would very reasonably desire those 
articles to be precisely what they are said to be; you 



LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

would not wish to buy what was labelled as one hundred 
and eighty yards of thread, and find that it really 
amounted to no more than fori - : you would not 

wish to be asked a higher price, because you are a stran- 
ger and ignorant of the tricks of trade, than you would 

I if you were one of the more knowing people. 
Of course, Mr. Shopman, you would like, as a customer, 
to be dealt with in perfect fairness ; well, then, treat 
your customers as, were you the customer, you would 
think it right you should be treated. All misrepresenta- 
tion, all concealment of defects, either in quality or quan- 
tity, are strictly prohibited by this rule. If you take a 
pleasure in being cheated, then perhaps you might find 
in this rule an excuse for cheating. If you can say, I 
wish all men would impose upon me, and swindle me, 
then I must confess that, if you are to do to others as 
you would they should do to you, you must become a 
ie. 13ut again, I say. pnt yourself in your customer's 

-'; yourself how you would like to be dealt with 

were your positions interchanged ; and if you then do to 

him as you would wish him to do to you, you will never 

be guilty of fraud, of misrepresentation, or any other 

fault; you will give full weight, full measure, rather 

than under; you will ask a fair price, rather a low 

than an exorbitant one, because thus I am sure you 

would h And if, on the other hand, 

-. then none of that shabby, mean, 

and m of prices. 

em to think that the shop- 

: . right to any profit at all; or they are 

silly to suppose that, notwithstanding the keen- 



THE GOLDEN RULE. 47 

ness of competition, his profits are most enormous. I 
must say that I 'admire the patience of many a worthy 
shopkeeper. There he stands ; he says that the price 
of an article is 4s. 6d. ; he is told that it is not worth 
half the money ; he assures his customer that it will 
wear well, and the customer flatly contradicts him ; the 
good man's word is questioned a hundred times in a day; 
he is asked whether he won't take thirty per cent, off; 
and thus the customer insinuates that the shopkeeper is 
a rogue, who would take him in if he could. People who 
are exceedingly refined, and people in social life, act the 
part of the blackguard and the ruffian, and leave all 
their good manners at home, when haggling with a 
tradesman, and insulting him to his face. I am afraid 
I should never do for such a position ; I should be ready 
to fling the article at the saucy, impudent customer's 
head, and expel him ignominiously from my premises. 
Consider yourself in the position of the seller, when you 
go to buy ; ask how you would like customers to treat 
you with distrust, to make insinuations against your 
honesty ; and thus, in all your purchases, and all your 
attempts at purchasing, observe the Golden Rule, of do- 
ing to others as you would they should do to you. It is 
a rule quite as binding on the buyer as on the seller ; it 
applies on each side of the counter, on each side of the 
bargain. 

Or take the case of lending and borrowing. The less 
we have to do with this sort of business the better, for 
generally " he who goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing." 
It is, perhaps, much to be regretted that the facilities 
for borrowing are so great ; for these facilities are a 



48 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

strong temptation, and if a man knew that lie could 
not obtain a loan, lie would be carefuf not to get into 
such a mess as to require it, careful not to aim at schemes 
and speculations too great for his ability to com] 
However, lending, though it does often lead to much 
mischief amongst all classes, and especially amongst the 
humbler sort of people, cannot be prevented, and ought 
not to be prevented if it could ; and I suppose there al- 
ways will be people who by their improvidence are driven 
to the necessity of borrowing, or who believe that if they 
only had the loan of a few hundreds of pounds they could 
make their fortunes in jerry building, or other equally 
honorable occupations. Now, I dare say that most 
of us who have anything to lend are often applied to 
by our needy acquaintances. Nothing is more com- 
mon than such applications, and therefore it may be well 
to ask what our duty is in these cases. The borrower, 
of course, thinks that the Golden Rule is all in his favor. 
I f, "Now, if this friend of mine were in 
my place, he would be very glad to he helped by me;" 
and therefore he applies for the loan, or asks his friend 
to become security for it, and enforces his request by 
n Rule. But this rule is not always 
in favor of the borrower. If you lend, you are 
to lend ; by lending you will do the borrower 

to lend him money, or facilitate 
his getting a loan, would be the worst thing you could 
do for hi If too. If he wishes to borrow 

that money in vice ; if he 

>r what he might have 

procured by 1: iustry ; or if he wishes to borrow in 



THE GOLDEN RULE. 49 

order that he may launch out into speculations of doubtful 
issue, then, if you intend to befriend him, you will reso- 
lutely refuse to comply with his request. There are 
cases, however, in which a loan is a kindness, and then 
the words of Christ apply— -From him that would bor- 
row of thee turn not thou away;" if it is very clear to 
you that the loan will really do the man good, then don't 
refuse it, if you can afford it; and by all means try to 
keep the poor borrower and yourself free from the sharp 
the cruel fangs of the Loan Society-an institution which 
generally trades and thrives upon the miseries and em- 
barrassments of the poor and the distressed. Eut the 
borrower is also reminded of his duties by the Golden 
Rule ; he is reminded that as, if he were the lender, he 
would expect punctual payment of interest and principal 
according to agreement, he must do all in his power to 
render such payment. 

Again, take the case of masters and men. The Golden 
Rule will teach the employer that, although he probably 
might get his work done for a trifle less than he pays, he 
is not to screw his men down to the lowest farthing at 
which they can undertake to work for him. The Golden 
Rule will teach him to give his men such wages as he 
feels that, were he himself a workman, he would be fairly 
entitled to receive. The Golden Rule will teach him also 
to provide for the comfort of those in his employ. It 
will teach him, if his men live in his establishment, to 
make that establishment such a home as he, in their cir- 
cumstances, would think himself justified in expecting. 
Of course he cannot gratify every whim ; he cannot com- 
ply with every request; he cannot afford all that may be 



50 LECTURES Toil THE PEO 

expected, and might do wrong in granting it, if he could 
afford it; but there is a medium between severity and in- 
dulgence, between niggardliness and profusion, which the 
Golden Rule will teach him ; and he will be most h: 
with his men, and, I think, most prosperous in his busi- 
ness, when he tries to do to them, as he, in their circum- 
stances, would wish them to do to him. He will com- 
mand their respect, their confidence, their esteem, their af- 
fection ; here and there he may find an incorrigible fellow, 
who will only take advantage of his kindness, and grum- 
ble all the more the better he is treated; but in general 
the case will prove far otherwise, and a good master will 
make good servants. But this is a rule for the employed 
as well as for the employer. Let the workman put him- 
self in imagination into the master's place, and say what 
he would then expect, and fairly expect, from his men- 
honesty, punctuality, steadiness, and diligence, with the 
very best workmanship ; all these he as master would 
look for, all these, therefore, as servant the Golden Rule 
requires him to render. There has been much debating 
on that famous but very indefinite saying, "A fair day's 
es for a fair day's work." Masters are not likely to 
Mvith the workman's notion of the fair day's wages; 
I v to approve of the master's stan- 
ffork. I do not know of any prin- 
Eaction of both 
S p ting tl i Rule. If both masters 

,M only resolve faithfully to do to others 
, ,- they would others should do to them, the fair 
day < 3 all d the fair day's work would soon be de- 



THE GOLDEN KULE. 51 

cided upon, to the mutual comfort and advantage of both 
the employer and the employed. 

And, in short, in-all matters of business, from the least 
to the greatest — from the sale and purchase of an ounce 
of tea, to the sale and purchase of ten thousand acres of 
land — from the payment of a washerwoman's wages, to 
the payment of a bank manager's salary — it will be 
found that the Golden Rule is the safest, the wisest, the 
justest, and the best that men can adopt. It is the great 
guiding, governing, balancing principle in all compacts, 
agreements, bargains, sales, purchases, loans, promises, 
and all other transactions between man and man ; and 
little would be the distress, few would be the difficulties, 
insolvencies, bankruptcies, and other misfortunes, if all 
men would make it a rule to do to others as they would 
have others do to them. 

In social life, too, as well as in commercial, the Golden 
Rule claims our allegiance; and if obeyed, only think 
how careful it would make us not to wound each other's 
feelings, not to injure each other's reputation. You do 
not like to be slandered ; then, by the Golden Rule, I 
ask you not to slander. You do not like to have your 
faults whispered about, or blazed abroad ; then, by the 
Golden Rule, I conjure you to hide, with the mantle of 
charity, the multitude of your brother's sins. And, by 
this rule, I implore you to forgive and to forget all inju- 
ries and offences, for every man who wishes to be forgiven 
is required by this rule to forgive. Every man who de- 
precates the revenge of him whom he has offended, is by 
this rule required to put revenge out of his own heart. 
This law teaches us to be as jealous of another's fair 



52 LECTURES FOE TTIE PEOPLE. 

fame as of our own, as lenient to another's faults as we 
are prone to be to our own. Yes ; in social life, there is 
an ample range for the application of the Golden Rule. 
In religion, too, and in politics, this rule will teach us 
that we are to give those who differ from us ever so widely 
that credit for sincerity which we claim for ourselves ; 
and bigotry can exist no longer in the heart, when the 
Golden Rule becomes the heart's law. 

And, in conclusion, let me ask, What was our Saviour's 
own mission to the world, but the sublimest fulfillment of 
the Golden Rule ? He did for us exactly what, in our 
circumstances, he would have wished some gracious being 
to do for him. He saw that we were sinful, that we 
were helpless, that we were ignorant, that we were lost ; 
he felt that, were such his position, he would stand in 
need of a saviour, a sacrifice, a teacher ; and, in confor- 
mity with the Golden Rule, he did for others what he 
would have wished to be done for him. Jesus is no mere 
theorist, who comes with rules and maxims teaching 
others what to do, and then leaving them to do it. He 
is himself the noblest embodiment of his own laws. He 
did not give us one precept which he did not himself 
; in his self-denial, in his sufferings, in his 
\ for sinful men. we see this glorious precept written 
in characters of celestial live ; and behold how lie achieved 
that crowning victory over self to which this law conducts 
US— the entire surrender of all personal interest and 
advantage, when only by Buch surrender the welfare of 
o tliers can be secured. Such a sacrifice we cannot make, 
and are not required to make; but still, "let us walk by 
the same rule." The precept which we have discussed, 



THE GOLDEN RULE. 53 

if it teach us anything at all, teaches ns that, if we see a 
brother man ignorant, depraved, vicious, wretched, we 
should do all in our power to instruct, reclaim, and save 
him. Apply this principle, then, in all business matters, 
and in all social life ; but remember, also, that it has a 
wider and a higher sphere of operation, to which it calls 
us ; and it is not satisfied, its claims are not honored, 
unless we cheerfully give ourselves to every work of 
self-denial, activity, and toil, by which a fellow-creature 
can be blessed, in mind, body, or estate ; for, as I have 
already said, the Golden Rule requires of us more than 
strict and even-handed justice- — it tells us that we must 
be generous too. Human moralists teach us that we are 
not to inflict any injury which we should be unwilling to 
suffer; this Divine Teacher shows us that we are to 
confer every benefit which we can reasonably wish others 
to bestow. My friends, you know the rule is good. You 
often quote it, often remind others of it. Let us practice 
it. If you understand this rule, if you perceive the 
amplitude of its range, you will not be so foolish as to 
say that you have observed it, or that the observance of 
it is by any means an easy matter. Instead of lifting 
up our heads in proud self-ignorance, boasting that this 
is our practice, it behooves us to confess to Almighty 
God our innumerable departures from Christ's Golden 
Rule, and to ask Him to help us henceforth to keep it 
diligently, even unto the end. 



LECTURES EUII THE PEOPLE. 



LECTURE III 



THE PRODIGAL SOX. 



That greatest and best of all teachers, Jesus Christ, 
very often threw his instructions into the form of para- 
bles, or similitudes ; he made the commonest facts of 
every-day life the representations of great moral and 
ious truths, and availed himself of those things 
sh the people well knew, to teach them many things 
of which they were altogether ignorant. In these homely 
illustrations there is a great variety, answering to the 
variety of truths which the Great Teacher judged it 
proper to impress upon the attention of hia hearers, upon 
ttion of all the world. Each parable has its own 
j articular 1< bsoii ; no one of them teach J truth of 

religion; but if we take them all ; .r is probable 

thai we shall End that every gr< at Christian principle is 
Lte d under some one of those well-known forms. 
ables, that which we call "The Prodigal 
Son" Is perhaps the most beautiful; is thai to which a 
man, who knows that he is a sinful creature in the Bight 
of God, will most readily turn for instruction and for 
comfort, because it does bo gloriously set forth God's 
love, and hi. willingness to forgive, to receive, and to 



THE PRODIGAL SON. 55 

bless every penitent and returning soul. This parable 
is recorded in the 15th chapter of the Gospel according 
to St. Luke. I shall not read it at length, because most 
of it will be read, verse by verse, as we proceed with our 
comments and explanations. 

The fact upon which the parable is based is unhappily 
one of very common occurrence ; it is one of the ordinary 
incidents of life, peculiar to no particular nation, to no 
particular age. Prodigal sons are to be found every- 
where ; sons like this young man in the parable, impatient 
of parental discipline, defiant of parental authority, 
determined to enjoy the world in their own way, wild, 
reckless, wasteful, licentious, unwilling to work, taking 
advantage of a father's kindness, of a father's weakness, 
extorting from him his hard-earned savings, and squan- 
dering the money in taverns and in brothels ; and, at 
last reduced to want, compelled to engage in the most 
humiliating occupations. This parable presents us with 
a very graphic description of a fast young man of those 
times ; in most respects the picture is equally true, 
considered as the representation and the portrait of a 
fast young man of the present day. But while the 
parable is so true, regarded simply in this light, it 
contains a far deeper and more important truth. It 
seems to speak only of an idle, good-for-nothing wastril, 
who brings himself to grief by his folly and excess ; but 
it does in reality speak of all who break away from the 
authority of God, and spend their lives in sin ; and 
there's many a man who never had a patrimony to 
squander, and who never through extravagance and vice 
came to want, but who, nevertheless, is represented by 



56 LECTURES EOR THE PEOPLE. 

this prodigal — who has treated his Heavenly F^ 
much after the manner in which the lad in the parable 
treated his earthly parent. For I think that there can 
be little doubt that this is the first thing that the parable 
is intended to teach us — that God is our Father. It 
commences thus, "A certain man had two sons." That 
man is the representative of God; those sons are the 
representatives of men. We need not inquire, Whom 
does the elder son represent ? We have now to do with 
the younger ; and he is the representative of all who set 
God's authority at nought, and follow the devices and 
desires of their own evil hearts. Still, God graciously 
calls himself the Father even of such. This youth, 
though a prodigal, was still a son, and was loved with all 
the fullness of a Father's love. It is not said, "A 
certain man had two servants," or "a son and a 
servant," but "A certain man had two sons;" and thus 
every prodigal, every wanderer is encouraged to believe 
that he, too, has a place in God's heart. Therefore, 
what I have first to do is to entreat every one who hears 
me, whatever his character, his conduct, his belief, his 
■ of heart, to believe that he has a Father in heaven, 
and never to give up this belief, never to allow himself to 
suppose that God hates him, and is unwilling to forgive 
him, and to welcome him hack from his wanderings. For 
although a truly in, who loves God, and strives 

to become like Him, 1 ls for calling 

his ; ist, in this ] iral I here, 

encon to hold this principle, and to 

love and a father's blessing 
for us all. '' Ligal, with all his prodigality, was 



THE PRODIGAL SON. 57 

still a son, and would have been a son, had he been a 
thousandfold more prodigal than he was. This tie was 
never broken, this relationship never was dissolved ; and, 
therefore I feel it to be my duty as well as my joy to 
say, to him who has erred most, to him who in his 
consciousness of guilt trembles at the thought of God, to 
him who in his madness curses God's name— yes, and to 
him who in his blindness denies God's existence — -My 
friend, you have a Father in heaven, who loves you. 

Looking at the parable from a merely secular point 
of view, and for a moment losing sight of its deeper 
meaning, it reminds us of the danger which often arises 
from the fact that a young man has a father, or other 
friend, who can and will give him pecuniary help. This 
youth says to his father, " Father, give me the portion 
of goods that falleth to me." Of course he thought 
himself a very lucky fellow— far better off than those 
poor drudges who have to toil and moil for weekly wages, 
and who with the utmost difficulty manage to make both 
ends meet. And it certainly is for some men a most 
fortunate circumstance that their fathers, uncles, or other 
relations have contrived to make money, for, if left to 
their own resources, they would come upon the parish 
very soon. But in many cases the fact that a young 
man has large expectations, that he has his father's re- 
putation for wealth, to draw upon, and ultimately a share 
of that wealth, is his ruin. Perhaps if the foolish lad in 
the parable had been a poor man's son, brought up to 
hard work, he would have behaved himself decently ; 
but his good luck was his bad luck — his advantages be- 
came his disadvantages— the portion of goods proved a 



58 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

snare to him, enabled him to enter upon that expensive 
career of vice which at last plunged him into such misery 
and disgrace. If, then, you have no such prospects, no 
hope whatever of obtaining a farthing from your father, 
don't let this in the least depress you; probably enough 
it is all for your good. Thrown entirely upon your own 
resources, knowing that only by your own hands and 
brains you can escape the poor-house, you will feel that 
labor is a necessity, and you will be kept out of a thou- 
sand temptations to which the heir to great possessions 
is exposed. You will never be tempted to entertain the 
unnatural wish for your father's death ; you will not, 
like some, observe with horrid satisfaction the symptoms 
of his approaching end. You will learn to be an inde- 
pendent, hard working, self-reliant man ; your talents 
and energies will be called out into constant exercise, 
and will wax stronger with every effort ; you will find 
that the sweetest bread is the bread which a man eats in 
the sweat of his face ; and you will have the proud satis- 
>n of knowing that you have, by dint of manly and 
courageous work, made your own way in the world. 
Many of us have great reason to rejoice that we never 
could say with the prodigal, "Father, give me the por- 
that falleth to me," simply because, beyond 
. and a !' ling, our fathers had 

lis. But lie who gii -on these 

3 him enough, unl sed that son be a cripple, 

,• in body or in mind. Cripples, of course, need 
• than tl d do not. While this request of 

the prodigal, viewed i ilar light, reminds us that 

a lai *reat advantage, that 



THE PRODIGAL SON. 59 

what is easily got is often soon spent ; viewed in another 
light, it represents men's impatience of the restraints of 
God's government, and their desire to do just as they 
please with all the bounties of God's providence. That 
prodigal thought that life in his father's house was 
too slow, too strict, too quiet, too sober— just as many 
think that the life of morality and religion is tedious, 
flat, insipid, because it does not afford the gratification 
of their animal passions, but requires them to keep these 
passions all in check, and under severe and constant 
control. 

Well, the father did what this foolish son asked him 
to do. You may ask why the father acted so unwisely, 
so unkindly, as to entrust a large sum of money to a lad 
so viciously inclined. Now, you must remember that 
Jesus spoke to Jews, and spoke in accordance to their 
customs; and I believe it was the law that the father 
should accede to such a demand as this, and give the son 
his portion when he asked for it, after coming of age ; I 
question whether the father could have legally refused 
to give this prodigal his portion. You may say, truly 
enough, that a wise and kind father, perceiving that such 
a son was likely to waste the money, would have been 
most unwilling to let him have it, would, at the most, 
have doled it out very sparingly, given him so much a 
week, just enough to live upon ; but if the law gave the 
son power to demand his share, then, of course, the con- 
duct of the father, in this case, cannot be blamed, and 
need not excite any surprise. And, moreover, the con- 
duct of the father represents God's method of dealing 
with men, represents this very important truth, that God 



60 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

treats us as free agents, as responsible beings ; that He 
does not forcibly prevent our sinning against Him, doe? 
docs not raise such a barrier as would render our wan- 
dering from Him impossible; and if men could not do 
wrong, there would be nothing virtuous in doing right. 
A dumb man tells no lies, a man who can neither read 
nor write docs not commit forgery, and a man who is 
bed-ridden does not attempt burglary ; but such absti- 
nence from crime as arises simply from inability to per- 
petrate it, has nothing of the nature of virtue. Here 
we are in a state of probation, and therefore we must 
have freedom of will, must be in a position to do what is 
right or what is wrong according to our own determina- 
tion. And so God gives us "the portion of goods" 
which, according to the arrangements of His providence, 
falla to us; He gives to all of us a measure of bodily 
health and strength, and a measure of intelligence ; He 
3 to some of us great powers and opportunities of 
g good or evil, and first telling us how we ought to 
act, what we ought to do with this " portion of goods," 
He then leaves us to our own responsibility, at the same 
time promising to guide and to help us in doing the 
thing that is right, if wc will have His guidance and His 

This fa 5 man was in such a hurry to be off, 

that, "n< iving his property, he 

thered all together," melted everything into money, 
"took his journey into a far country, and there wasted 
mce with He thought it such 

a jolly thing away from all restraint, to be his 

awn i like many other young fools, supposed 



THE PRODIGAL SON. 61 

that his money would procure no end of enjoyment, and 
would last for ever. There are many youths who are 
obliged to leave their fathers house, and take a, journey 
into a far country ; many who come from far to this 
great town, in order to push their way in the world, and 
if possible, make their fortune ; and of these, not a few, 
like the prodigal, forget the moral training they have 
received, the religious instruction to which they used to 
listen, the good habits in which they were brought up, 
and knowing that they are no longer subject to parental 
inspection and control, waste their substance, their 
time, their money, and their health in riotous living. 
The parable, in this respect, is an exact description of 
thousands of young men, who have left their homes and 
been thrown into the temptations of city life. The 
prodigal was peculiarly exposed to temptation ; because 
he. had money, he could for a time afford to be idle ; and 
when the devil finds a man idle, he always finds him 
something to do. No one ever applies for a job at his 
shop, without obtaining immediate employment adapted 
to his ability and disposition. The devil never says, We 
are full just at present, call again — and the devil never 
gives any man the sack. The prodigal had money ; far 
better for him had it been if he had entered that far 
country without a cent, with nothing but his hands and 
his brains ; but he had money, and therefore he would 
immediately be surrounded by more hardened and expe- 
rienced rakes, all professing to admire him, all professing 
to feel honored with his acquaintance, and all eager to 
share in the spoil — u Wheresoever the carcase is, there 
will the vultures be gathered together." Let it only be 



G2 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

known that a young man has money, or that he has good 
prospects, and lie will be astonished at the number of 
friends who will shake hands with him, ask him to their 
haunts, treat him sumptuously, and flatter him to his 
heart's content ; and this is the friendship of the world ; 
this is the hollow, rotten, hypocritical thing which is :-o 
sentimentally toasted ; this is the bird, the foul, obscene 
bird, whose wing, it is hoped, "may never lose a fea- 
ther." Such friendship certainly has wings, and knows 
how to use them, too. You poor simpleton, when your 
friends have got all they can out of you and plucked you 
as bare as a goose ready for the spit, if they suddenly 
leave you, don't complain. " The wing of friendship has 
not lost a feather," and therefore friendship rapidly flies 
v. carrying with it, in its rapacious talons, all that it 
could, by flattery, by deceit, and by fraud, contrive to 

He you out of. That youth's departure into a far 
country, however, means chiefly this — a sinful man's de- 
parture from God, from God's truth, from God's law, 
from the way in which God requires us to walk. You 

go into that far country without traveling a mile, 
for indeed that far country is very near to us. The dis- 
tance is to be measured, not by miles, but by character 

conduct. In proportion to our guilt, we have tra- 
velled into that far country. Some have traveled far- 

than others; the best of us, I fear, are on the bor- 

r the best of us are too far from God, too 

from righl >o far from purity. Don't sup- 

thal the young man who turns out wild, and lives 

. is the only one who has taken his journey to that 

far country. Many, whose lives are not at all of the 



THE PRODIGAL SO?!. G3 

gay and profligate sort, are nevertheless dwelling in that 
far country ; many of the most perverse of mortals are 
there, wasting their substance with riotous living, foi 
there are different ways of living riotously. He who 
spends all lives riotously ; and he who spares all lives 
riotously too. What, ^ou say, does that man, whom I 
see so regularly going to his place of business, live riot- 
ously — that man whom everybody calls a regular screw ? 
He has saved £50,000, but he will scarcely afford him- 
self sufficient food ; he would think more than one pickled 
herring an extravagance. Is that man living riotously ? 
Yes, I say he is ; he is wasting his substance, he is de- 
stroying his soul, the real substance, the substance that 
must survive when all those shadows and vanities of time 
have fled away for ever. That screw of whom you 
speak, that pattern of thrift, is doing no good to the 
world ; he has said to the silver and the gold, Ye are 
my Gods. Perhaps he goes to church, is an office-bearer 
in some Christian congregation. Well, all the worse ; 
he has added hypocrisy to covetousness. The miser, the 
trickster, the man who cheats the public by his lying ad- 
vertisements, the man who trades upon false capital — 
these, as well as the rake, the drunkard, the libertine, 
and the common thief and prostitute, are all in that far 
country, wasting their substance with riotous living. 

" A fool and his money are soon parted," and therefore 
we are not surprised to learn that the prodigal, ere long, 
"had spent all." It is astonishing how rapidly any man 
can spend all, especially if he is helped by the men who 
have such good reason to hope that "the wing of friend- 
ship may never lose a feather." You can always find 



64 LECTURES FOK THE PEOPLE. 

plenty of people, both male and female, who will help 
you to spend your money, who will admire your gener- 
\ and will call you the host fellow in the world, if 
you will only make a fool of yourself for their gratifica- 
tion. The prodigal, I dare say, thought that he could 
never get to the bottom of his ample purse. Experience 
soon made him wiser ; he met with friends who, if they 
had no heart, had an appetite, and a very keen one, too ; 
and so his store became " small by degrees, and beauti- 
fully less." In another verse we read that he devoured 
his living with harlots. No further explanation of his 
rapid impoverishment can be required. But "when he 
had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land, 
and he began to be in want." And thus does our wise 
Saviour remind us that the pleasures of sin are but for a 
season ; that at the best they prove unsatisfying — " He 
began to be in want." But where were his friends — 
those who had so often feasted at his expense — those 
kindred spirits, who had drunk his wine, who had in flow- 
. merrily toasted him, who had stood round 
his hospitable board, and, with "Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!" 
decL d again that he was "a jolly good fel- 

low, which nobody could deny?" Where are they ? I 
do not know; but this I read — that "no man gave unto 
him." - x of friendship lias not lost a 

and this accounts for the bird's very rapid 

. Where are those friends of his? Gone to meet 

: into the far country, with Ms por- 

te to flal illage him. Such, 

• friendship of the world — the club-house friendship, 
•house friendship, the dancing-saloon friendship, 



THE PRODIGAL SON. 65 

the race-course friendship. Trust it not ; it is not a dove, 
it is a vulture — it is a boa constrictor, which, folds itself 
around its victim, as_ if in most friendly and warm-hearted 
embrace, but with that embrace crushes his very bones to 
pieces, and then greedily devours him. The wretched 
prodigal, thus reduced, " went and joined himself to a 
citizen of that country, and he sent him into his fields to 
feed swine." Looking at the parable in its merely secu- 
lar aspect, for the secular aspect is not uninstructive, I 
think I can see in this sentence the evil results of allow- 
ing a lad to grow up without having some kind of busi- 
ness. I believe that the Jews wisely held it for a maxim, 
that every youth, whatever his position in life, should 
learn some trade. In this case the rule does not seem to 
have been observed. The prodigal had mastered no kind 
of business, and, fit for nothing better, was compelled to 
take the meanest and most degrading occupation. And 
are there not many young men who, if they were, like 
this wretch, thrown upon their own resources, would be 
fit for no better employment than herding pigs ? Many 
of the swells and dandies who make such a display — just 
let them be obliged to shift for themselves, and your per- 
fumed exquisite, who thinks all mechanics little better 
than dirt, will scarcely be fit to sweep a crossing, for 
mere "gentility sent to market won't buy a peck of oats." 
But, looking at the serious meaning of this parable, what 
'ire we to understand by the prodigal's joining himself to 
[i citizen of that country, who sent him into his fields to 
feed swine ? The citizen of that country — who is he ? 
He is the devil ; and he found something for the prodi- 
gal to do, — for, as I have said, he never refuses work to 
5 



66 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

those who apply at his door, — and mean and scurvy work 
it was. To feed swine was, according to the Jews, about 
the vilest and most detestable occupation in which any 
man could engage ; and it is therefore the symbol of the 
infinitely worse work that the devil provides for his ser- 
vants. Feeding swine ! yes ; there are many people, who 
perhaps do not know that they are thus employed, when 
thus employed they are. That board of gentlemen, pre- 
siding over the management of the Great Sell Railway, 
or of that Bank, in which they have invested their joint 
stock of scoundrelism (unlimited), they, consulting their 
own interests at the expense of the share-holders, have 
joined themselves to that citizen, and are feeding his 
swine. That publican, who cares not how drunk his cus- 
tomers may be, nor whether their children are starving 
and stealing in the streets, so that he gets hold of their 
money; he has joined himself to that citizen, and is feed- 
ing his swine. That tradesman who, for filthy lucre, 
gives deficient weight and measure, and plasters the walls 
with falseholds ten feet square ; that rascally emigrant- 
runner, who hunts out and runs down as his game the 
poor unsuspecting victim of his horrible treachery ; that 
dissolute wretch who seeks by fraud and embezzlement 
to carry on his wild and miserable career — all such have 
joined themselves to that citizen, and are in his field-, 
feeding liis .-wine and eating of the husks. Surely it is 
wisely written, "The way of transgressors is hard." 

Lut now T have to tell you joyful news of this poor 
miserable prodigal, "he came to himself." Heretofore 
he had not been himself, he had been in a state bordering 
on madness, he had been acting in a manner contrary to 



THE PRODIGAL SON. 67 

all the dictates of reason, he had been playing the fool. 
If you take the word insane in its true meaning, 
"unsound," you wiH see that many persons are afflicted 
with some degree of insanity. Bad men often glory in 
their shrewdness, they think that they are uncommonly 
knowing fellows ; they boast that they are not to be done, 
that you must get up very early in the morning to get to 
windward of them ; they are old birds, not to be caught 
with chaif, weasels, not to be caught asleep, old hands, 
deep files, chaps that know a thing or two ; knaves, 
perhaps, but not fools, not they, indeed ; you can't get 
to the blind side of them, they have no blind side. But 
here I find Wisdom itself declaring that they are not 
themselves, that they are, in fact, insane, with this 
reservation, that they are not so insane as to be -irre- 
sponsible ; and let a man but persist in wickedness, and 
he will, at last, learn that the devil has been making a 
fool and a cat's paw of him, that the devil's private 
opinion of him is that he is an ass. Happy is it when 
the prodigal comes to himself in time. Every sinner, 
sooner or later, comes to himself. If he does not come 
to himself on earth, he comes to himself in hell, and 
learns that he has been insane, that he has been pursuing 
a ruinous and wretched course. If there be a prodigal 
here, join with me, my friends, in the desire and the 
prayer that he may come to himself in time, that his 
eyes may be opened, that he may see his true character, 
position, and prospects as a sinner. It is well that the 
way of trangressors is hard, that it is hedged up with 
thorns, that it leads to poverty, to disease, to disgrace, 
to wretchedness. It was the misery to which his folly 



68 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

had brought him, that first led this young man to 

reflection, to conviction, and to repentance. When all 

. w h n he began to taste the bitter dregs cf 

that cup which had been so sweet, then "he came to 

him 

But what of this ? he came to himself, he saw himself 
in his true character, and the sight was enough to drive 
him to despair, and does drive many men to despair, and 
they go on to still greater madness, endeavor to stifle 
the voice of conscience, become utterly hardened, and 
often finish with blowing their brains out. But this lad 
remembered his father and his father's house, and ii 
this that saved him from that danger of utter recklessness 
and desperation which attends the crisis in which a 
wicked man comes to himself. He remembered that he 
had a father, it was a glorious truth, his father was still 
alive, and he believed that his father still loved him. 
If he had not believed this, he would have abandoned 
jelftothereel . '*> And this is what 

. guilty brother of mine to believe, that he 
has a Father, and, further," that that Father loves him, 
thai thai Father is not res ratful, thai thai Father has 
him off. And again 1 - P this 

truth, never let your sense of guilt lead you to 

■ and saM that 

fng era son of his. Our Savi 
* ' us who are in the far 

ling the devi - that still we 

four Father, and our V. ther's house. When 

upon his 
olution, "I will arise, 



THE PRODIGAL SON. 69 

and go to my father." Undoubtedly his fellow swine- 
herds told him it was all nonsense. Perhaps they said, 
" Your father is not alive now, or if he should be alive, 
do you think he will receive you in your rags and filth ? 
If he should condescend to speak to you, he will ask you 
what you have done with your fortune ; he will tell you 
that he has no more to spare for a wastril like you ; he 
will tell you that c as you have made your bed, so you 
must lie,' and then he will slam the door in your face, 
and tell you to go back and feed your swine. No, don't 
go, it's a fool's errand, stop a bit longer, times will mend, 
the service won't last forever, you will get something 
better to do in this country; at all events it's of no use 
your going to that old governor of yours, he has done 
with you, and a precious impudent fellow you must be to 
expect anything more of him." And is it not thus that 
a bad man's companions, yes, and his own evil heart, 
argue with him, and try now to frighten him, now to 
ridicule him, when he begins to repent, and resolves to 
amend? If some of the prodigal's fellow-swineherds 
said, "Your father is dead," if such a thought entered 
the prodigal's mind, do not the sinner's companions and 
the sinner's heart suggest the possibility that there is no 
God — that he has no Father in heaven? And if the 
prodigal were told that his father would not forgive him, 
the sinner's fears often tell him just the same thing. I 
dare say that citizen came and said to the prodigal, 
"What a fool you are to think of going home ! you have 
no home; you can't better yourself; stay a bit longer, 
and I'll give you something to do that shall be more to 
your taste." And so the devil comes to his servant when 



70 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

that servant is for leaving him ; the devil comes and 
Buggests that God is unforgiving, that he is too righteous 
to pass by transgression ; or, perhaps, suggests this far 
more dangerous thought, that cur Heavenly Father is 
not so severe as to be angry with us, that we may remain 
in the far country still, behave ourselves decently, and 
then at death go peacefully and happily to our eternal 
home ! Beware of all such thoughts as these. My 
friend, imitate the prodigal ; resolve to arise, and go to 
your Father, and, like him, carry your resolution into 
practice. 

So the prodigal "arose, and came to his father." 
Perhaps he traveled on in fear and trembling, wondering 
how he should be received, thinking sometimes that 
perhaps he had better go back, that he would be driven 
from his father's door. The utmost he expected was, 
that he might perhaps be made as one of his father's 
hired servants; but whatever situation his father might 
assign him, lie was prepared to accept it — he would not 
rle about it — anything on his Father's estate, any 
place in his Path r's house, is better than feeding the 
swine and eating the husks in that far country. So, my 
friend, if yon resolve to return to God, be prepared for 
all that lie may appoint. Possibly enough, in the devil's 
service you can make more money than in the service of 
God; possibly enough, when you have abandoned those 
false ami fraudulent practices of yours, you may find it 
difficult to realise by honesty quite such large returns. 
Feeding the devil's swine is often a much more remune- 
rative employment than feeding God's sheep ; but still, 
the humblest position in God's service is infinitely better 



THE PRODIGAL SON. 71 

than the highest in the devil's. So come along; give 
the devil's service up, and trust in God's wisdom and 
goodness. The Lord will provide ; and probably even in 
secular things, he will provide for you better than the 
other master, for the devil pays some of his servants 
badly enough. 

Whatever the prodigal's expectations were, he found 
them far, and very far surpassed. u While he was yet 
a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, 
and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him." There 
was a welcome. The prodigal began to say, "Father, I 
have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no 
more worthy to be called thy son ;" he was going on to 
beg a place as a hired servant, but the father would hear 
no more ; he cut him short by saying to the servants, 
" Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him ; and put 
a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet : and bring 
hither the fatted calf, and kill it ; and let us eat, and be 
merry : for this my son was dead, and is alive again ; he 
was lost and is found." Oh what a forgiveness was this ! 
bow free, how full ! a forgiveness granted before it was 
asked ; for the father saw repentance marked upon the 
countenance of the prodigal — a forgiveness which went 
far beyond the prodigal's utmost expectation ; and the 
rags are exchanged for the best robe ; and the feet, all 
blistered and cut with traveling naked over many a 
weary mile, are comfortably shod ; and instead of the 
swine's husks, there is the fatted calf. " Make me as 
one of thy hired servants." No, no ! but thou shalt sit 
with me at my table, and my servants shall serve thee, 
and attend to all thy wants. Now, why did Jesus 



72 LECTURES FOR* THE PEOPLE. 

Christ in this parable represent the prodigal as receiving 
such a joyful welcome on his return ? It was Jbecause 
he wished to encourage all men, who have gone away far 
from God, with the assurance that they, in like manner, 
shall be forgiven, when, with penitence and contrition, 
sick and tired of sin, they return to their Heavenly Fa- 
ther, confessing their sin, and asking his mercy. My 
friend, it is not a bare forgiveness that your Heavenly 
Father is prepared, for Christ's sake, to bestow upon 
you, he will give you his welcome, as well as his forgive- 
ness ; he is now, as it were, waiting and watching for 
your return, and he will meet you on your way, and 
speak peace to your anguished heart ; and he will bring 
you to his house, clothe you with the robe of perfect 
righteousness, and set before you a feast of which your 
famished soul shall abundantly partake. So now, if that 
prodigal represent you in his folly, his sin, and his suf- 
fering, let him also represent you in his repentance, in 
his return, and in his joyful admission into his father's 
house. And may God say of each poor wanderer, in 
i he presenc of the adoring angels that surround his 
throne, l " This, my son, was dead, and is alive again; he 
was lost, and is found !" 



"there's a good time coming." 73 



LECTURE IV. 

"there's a good time coming." 

Before we consider the prospects and probabilities of 
"'a good time coming," and the means by which that 
" good time" is to be secured, it may be well to observe 
that, compared with the past, a good time has already 
come. We glory much in the progress that has been 
made in these modern days ; and although that glorying 
is perhaps often carried a little too far, there is good and 
substantial reason for it, nevertheless ; and those who 
know most of the past will probably be most deeply con- 
vinced that, in almost all respects, the times have changed 
for the better, and not for the worse. There are certainly 
some parts of the world in which no improvement is dis- 
coverable — some nations, whose present condition, com- 
pared with their past, gives tokens of decline and decay. 
This may be said of Italy, of Spain; and even of that 
country which so loudly boasts that it is the foremost in 
the march of civilization — France ; we cannot say that 
satisfactory progress has marked her history, for, al- 
though the world is indebted to her for many scientific 
discoveries and useful inventions, still, after a struggle 



74 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

of nearly one hundred years, she has failed to secure the 
inestimable blessing of freedom, and, to her utter hu- 
miliation, she crouches at the feet of an unscrupulous 
despot. In this country, however, we have neither been 
retrogressive nor stationary. There always have been, 
and I suppose there always will be, men of a gloomy fault- 
finding turn of mind, fully persuaded that we are going 
to ruin. Our decline has been predicted often; and 
whenever any great measure, which involves some im- 
portant alteration, is proposed, that measure is pro- 
nounced by the prophets of evil to be fatal to our pros- 
perity ; but still, in spite of all these melancholy fore- 
bodings, the fact is indisputable — we have advanced, and 
are advancing yet. There is no expression in the Eng- 
lish language which I am more at a loss to understand, 
than that well known and oft-repeated phrase, "the good 
old times." In what age can we discover those " good old 
times ?" Our history, dating its commencement at the pe- 
riod of the Roman conquest, extends over nearly two thou- 
sand years : but within this ample scope, I do not know that 
we can iix upon any age, long or short, which, compared 
with the present, is worthy of being called "a good old 
time." In the very early centuries of our history no one 
will think of looking for those much-lauded "good old 
times," for every one knows that they were times of utter 
barbarism. It is almost in vain to seek " the good old 
times" in later centuries — centuries of feudal tyranny and 
ecclesiastical despotism, of extreme ignorance, of dark 
superstition. There were no "good times" then; in fact, 
it is wonderful that the great body of the people could 
endure their miserable existence. Perhaps they were 



"there's a good time coming." 75 

good times for the great barons, the bishops, the abbots, 
and the priests, all of whom profited by the enslavement 
and ignorance of the people ; but the population at large 
had to live in such a state of wretchedness as is enough 
to fill us with horror ; horses have far better times now 
than men had then. The reign of Elizabeth has been 
much belauded, and in some respects it is undoubtedly 
worthy of praise ; but when we bear in mind the fact 
that vast numbers, of both Protestants and Catholics, 
suffered for their religion under her gentle sway, we can 
have no very happy idea of that age. Elizabeth was 
certainly a most accomplished person ; she was well 
versed in Greek, Latin, Italian, and French ; she was 
equally conversant with another language — the language 
of Billingsgate ; and when her temper was up, which was 
very frequently the case, she made no scruple of swear- 
ing, like any trooper ; and as to the purity of her Pro- 
testantism, you may judge of it from the fact, that she 
always had a crucifix, with lighted candles, in her private 
chapel, and was in the habit of praying to the Virgin 
Mary. Tyrannical as she was, her reign was looked back 
upon with admiration ; but this need cause no surprise, 
for she was succeeded by such a family of fools and scoun- 
drels, under whose mismanagement the country suffered 
all the evils of civil war, and, after that, was humbled 
and disgraced in the sight of the civilized world. 

There certainly were no good old times in the seven- 
teenth century ; and do not think that, in the last, the 
eighteenth century, those good times are to be found. 
In many respects, that age was far worse than its 
immediate predecessor. It was an age remarkable 



76 LECTURES FOR THE PEOrLE. 

chiefly for its irreligion, its ignorance, its vice, its 
brutality ; altogether, it is a period of which Ave have 
reason to be utterly ashamed. If you think that the 

nt century is peculiarly the age of frivolity, of 
shams, of dishonesty, of intemperance, of immorality, 
you are very much mistaken. The. evils of which we 
complain are no novelties. We find most of them, if not 
all of them, together with others that have disappeared, in 
full play in the last century ; whether you contemplate 
the political, the intellectual, the social, or the moral 
condition of the country, you find little to admire, much 
to despise and to loathe. There were, certainly, many 
men of learning, many men of genius ; and the English 
literature of the last century, adorned with the names of 
Addison, Johnson, Goldsmith, Gibbon, and Hume, is of 
a high order ; but that literature was known to but a 
very limited and select circle ; the great mass of the 
people were left in profound ignorance; and literary men 
themselves do not appear to have had the remotest idea 
of enlightening the working classes. Literature and 
science were luxuries proper only for the upper orders — 
ignorant the people were, and ignorant they must remain, 
and in that ignorance the safety of the nation was 
believed to exist. Well aware that '-knowledge is 
power," the apper classes trembled at the idea of the 

id of intelligence amongst the working population. 
Give them instruction, they will immediately become 
dissatisfied, they will think themselves as good as their 
natural Buperiors, they will be impatient of all control, 
they will treat their employers with disrespect, they will 
imbibe revolutionary and leveling principles, and the 



"there's a good time coming." 77 

throne and constitution will be destroyed ; keep the 
brutes in the dark, as their fathers have been kept, for 
once they obtain the arms "which intelligence supplies, 
the crown, the coronet, the mitre, will be exposed to 
insult, landed interests and moneyed interests will be 
overwhelmed, law and order will be overthrown, and the 
mob, having destroyed the aristocracy and the middle 
classes, will then destroy itself. Thus was the spread of 
knowledge feared and opposed ; it was even thought by 
some that it would prove a source of dreadful evil if the 
Bible were largely circulated amongst the people ; and 
when the Bible Society commenced its operations, at the 
beginning of the present century, a learned prelate 
opposed the principle of disseminating the Scriptures, 
because the consequence of such a course would be the 
increase of dissent and the downfall of the Church of 
England, and, therefore, he maintained that the Bible 
alone should not be distributed, but the Bible and prayer 
book together — the latter, I suppose, to correct the 
mischievous tendency of the former. It tells as little 
for the intelligence as for the good feeling of the educated 
classes that they cherished such foolish fears, that they 
saw every danger in popular enlightenment, no danger 
in popular ignorance. A few old dotards of that school 
still remain, dotards who remember the time when igno- 
rance produced such, bliss, and believe that, since reading 
and writing became so general, the working people have 
become more disrespectful, more discontented, and more 
turbulent, that the whole country has become more 
democratic, that the golden age has passed away, and 
that the institutions of the country have been imperiled. 



78 LECTURES FOR TEE PEOPLE. 

These idiots, however, are rapidly dying out, and the 
sooner the last of them takes his departure the better, 
for they do not belong to the present times ; they have 
lived too long, and can never henceforth take pleasure in 
anything done under the sun, because the tendency of 
things in parliament, in the church, in everything, is 
more and more in favor of what they call democratic 
insolence and ambition, in favor of what I shall call 
popular right and popular progress. But the fact is, 
that of this improvement every class of society has 
partaken. 

When was the throne so firm as at the present day ? 
Not in the reign of Elizabeth herself, nor in that of her 
strong-willed father. When were the aristocracy in so 
good a position ? There have been times in which the 
people treated them with greater subserviency, there 
never was a time in which they were treated with so 
much true respect; for many of them have made them- 
selves respectable, and by their talents and energies, 
ly and benevolently exerted for the public good, and 
not for personal aggrandisement, they have won the 
admiration and est. 'em of the people, and have not only 
a better, but a greater and a Bafer influence than in the 
days of their feudal grandeur and power. And instead 
of fostering infidelity and general contempt for religion, 
the intellectual pn people has made them 

less irreligious than in anj formt r period of our history. 
This some may be disposed to question, for it seems to 
be ,. | <• rtain that irr " - : ii. and neglect of the 

house of God, I i . ! Sabbath d 3ecration, are new sins; 
that now-a-days the people read their newspapers on 



"there's a good time coming." 79 

Sundays, and treat all ministers of religion and ordi- 
nances of religion with contempt, whereas, in the good 
old times, all men went reverently to church, and spent 
the Sunday in a truly devout manner. I think that this 
is a very incorrect view of the case ; from all that I have 
been able to learn, a larger proportion of the people, and 
of the working people, attends the ministry of the gospel, 
and spends the Sunday in a rational and religious 
manner, than at any former period of our history, not 
excepting even the palmiest days of the Reformation 
and of Puritanism. The fact is, that in these days men 
can hear the gospel in every town, in almost every 
parish ; but in those good old times of the last century 
this was impossible, as the ministers of religion were 
generally in utter ignorance of the nature of the gospel, 
and it was only here and there that a man could be found 
who told men of salvation through the atonement made 
by Jesus Christ. And, amongst other good old customs 
of those good old times, we find intemperance, and every 
kind of immorality upon the part of the clergy, exceed- 
ingly common ; and, accordingly, Archdeacon Paley, in 
a sermon preached in the year 1781, after warning the 
young clergy of the diocese against drunkenness, warns 
them against fornication, in these words : " What, then, 
shall we say, when those who ought to cure the malady 

propagate the contagion? 

When you suffer yourselves to be engaged in any 
unchaste connection, you not only corrupt an individual 
by your solicitations, but debauch a whole neighborhood 
by the profligacy of your example." I quote this from 
an ordination sermon; it is addressed to ministers of 



80 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

religion. I need scarcely say that such an ordination 
sermon in these times would very properly be resented 
as an unbearable insult. Good old times, truly, when a 
man of Paley's strong common sense, a man who never 
said a word which he did not think the case in hand 
required, felt it his duty to warn his brethren against 
drunkenness and fornication, knowing of course that 
they were not unusual adornments of the ministerial 
character in his day. But is there not more dishonesty 
now than formerly — more fraudulent dealing in trade, 
more swindling speculation than in the olden time ? In 
these respects, we are apt to consider the present age 
worse than any previous one. But if you consult the 
numerous Acts of Parliament which prohibited adultera- 
tion ; if you remember that the last century witnessed 
the South Sea bubble, in which swindle many of the 
aristocracy, and even dignitaries of the church, took 
part ; if you bear in mind the fact at that time govern- 
ment bought the votes of honorable gentlemen in the 
House of Commons, at the rate of five hundred or a 
thousand pounds a-piece ; and above all, if you think of 
the slave trade and its atrocities, the fraud and dishonesty 
of this age, great as they are, sink into insignificance by 
the eomparison. I say again, therefore, that you cannot 
discover those good old times; that the more narrowly 
the pasl is investigated, the worse it appears; and, there- 
fore, to talk aboul the good old times is all sentimental 
moonshine, the present age being, in every respect, better 
than any other that this country lias seen, from the very 
dawn of its history until now. 

But, still unsatisfied, we look for "a good time com- 



"there's a good time coming." 81 

ing," a better time than this. We ought to be unsatisfied 
for there is much evil obstinately remaining ; so much, 
indeed, that the most- hopeful man is sometimes appalled 
at the difficult task that lies before us, and sometimes 
fe irs that the aspirations of humanity and religion will 
never be realised at all. Nevertheless, we have more 
reason to hope than to fear. This is one of the grand 
lessons taught us by the past. Heretofore there has 
been improvement, up to this very day— political im- 
provement, commercial improvement, mental improve- 
ment, moral improvement — improvement so gradual as 
not to be perceptible, perhaps, when one year is com- 
pared with its immediate predecessor, but very visible if 
you take periods of twenty or twenty-five years. Study- 
ing our history thus, we perceive in each succeeding term 
less tyranny, less poverty, less ignorance, and less vice ; 
and, on the whole, our path for twenty centuries has 
been like that of the shining light, which shineth more 
and more unto the perfect day, and this improvement 
has been proceeding at a greatly accelerated speed 
during the present generation ; and, persuaded as I am 
that this progress has been ordained and wrought out by 
Divine Providence, I cannot feel the slightest apprehen- 
sion that any evil, however strong, however obstinate, 
can avail to arrest it, or even to retard it long. 

What then are to be the characteristics of that coming 
time, which we long for, which we expect, and which we 
venture to pronounce "good?" We have no prophets 
m this age, though there are many persons who aspire 
to the prophetic office, and speculate upon the things 
that are to be, most of them delighting in predicting the 



#2 LECTURES FOB THE PEOPLE. 

doleful, rather than the happy. Some of our prophetic 
friends base their expectations upon their political e 
city; others, on the contrary, plunge into the prophecies 
of Daniel and the Key elation of St. John, and are confi- 
dent that they can discern the signs of the times. 
not belong to either of these schools, nor do I place 
slightest reliance upon either of them. They are often 
so much at variance amongst themselves, and I 
dictions have so often been falsified by facts, that I can- 
not suppose that any of them have found the key which 
is to unlock for us the mysteries of the future. The 
calculations of the political prophet are based upon so 
many insecure data, are liable to so many derangements, 
through events possible but utterly unforeseen, that his 
predictions are very uncertain; while the reveries of 
our pulpit prophets are for the most part so incoherent, 
that I 'wonder they should command the slightest credit, 
as they solemnly dogmatise about Gog and Magog, and 
the battle of Armageddon. I believe that our future is 
very much in our hands, that it is to a great extent to 
be framed by ourselves, and that it will be the result 
and product of what we are, and what we do. The time 
that is coming, whether good or a time that is 

now being made, and in the making of which every one 
of 11- share, large or small, pri :;;tesmen, 

per editors, merchants, opera- 
— all are Bhaping and framing the coming time. 
The character of our future will of course be gn 
modified by circumstances I ryond our control, and be- 
yond all human control ; but still it does to a great ex- 
tent depend upon ourselves, in our collective and indi- 



"there's a good time coming." 83 

vidual action, whether that future is to be a good time 
or a bad. If we consider what those elements are which 
constitute good times, we shall see that, while much is 
above us, and beyond us, much is within our power, and 
that, although we are the creatures of some circumstances, 
we may be the creators of others. By good times, I 
understand, with most other people, times of commercial 
and industrial prosperity. The elements of this are not 
under our control, or are so to a very limited extent. 
An indifferent harvest, a war, or some particular line of 
policy adopted by foreign nations, may affect our com- 
merce and our industry in a most disastrous manner ; 
though still something depends upon ourselves, for trade 
and commerce may be injured, ruined in fact, by the 
folly of those engaged in it ; and the commercial world 
has generally itself to blame for all those panics and 
convulsions which periodically recur. But whatever 
may be our commercial and industrial position in the 
time that is coming, the question, "Will it be a good 
time or a bad one to us, as individuals ?" will be an- 
swered chiefly by our own individual conduct. If we 
are determined to be thriftless and extravagant, then 
whatever our advantages may be they will be lost and 
thrown away upon us. It is needful not only that the 
sun should shine, but also that we should make our hay 
while it does shine; and so it is of no use singing, 
" There's a good time coming," unless we intend each 
for himself to make it good. It is possible to extract 
some good out of the worst times, equally possible to let 
the very best times pass by, and get no good whatever 
from them. Suppose that there is a good time coming, 



1 84 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

a period of unexampled activity and demand for labor; 
suppose that our best hopes are realised, and there 
should come a succession of abundant harvests., many 
- of peace, a vast and varied trade with all parts of 
the world, agricultural interests, money interests, manu- 
facturing interests, shipping interests, all in a flourishing 
condition, abundance of employment for craftsmen of 
every description, all this will do no good to the idler, 
to the squanderer, to the drunkard, to the fool ; such men 
have been good times, but have derived not the slightest 
benefit from them ; and thus it will be again, for good 
times are worth nothing excepting to the men who are 
prepared by industry, sobriety, economy, and good sense 
to make the best of them. Thus, as I have already said, 
and I think it is worthy of particular notice, the good- 
ness of the time that is coming, the goodness of all our 
future years on earth, depends not merely upon those 
great leading events which are beyond our control, — not 
merely upon good harvests, general peace, wise legisla- 
tion, and the removal of all impediments to trade, — but 
also upon our character and conduct. There may spring 
up a favorable breeze of wind, but it depends upon the 
navigator of the ship whether that breeze of wind carries 
him swiftly and prosperously on his course. And so is 
it with us all ; the circumstances that surround us may 
he pre-eminently in our favor, but laziness, ignorance, 
intemperance, extravagance will make the best times 
bad. Therefore, let us not soothe ourselves by singing 
about the good time coming; I hope such a time is at 
hand, hut we must make it good for ourselves, by forsak- 
ing all those vices which disable men from appropriating 



"there's a good time coming." 85 

to their own benefit the advantages which such a time 
may offer. 

But still, "a man's life consisteth not in the abundance 
of the things that he possesseth." We cannot have good 
times without good trade, or without industry to appro- 
priate the advantages of a good trade ; but to make the 
future really good we must ourselves be good. Good 
times are impossible to a bad man. We must remember 
the moral, as well as the secular sense of the term "good," 
when we speak of good times, when we hope for good 
times ; and those are really a man's good times when he 
makes advancement in the cultivation of his mind in the 
acquisition of knowledge, and above all in the love and 
practice of virtue. You know the common expression, 
" bettering oneself." "When a man leaves an inferior for 
a superior situation, he says that he "betters himself." 
Now, this expression is usually confined to mere secular 
advancement. Let us give it a higher meaning, let us 
take it in its literal sense, to make oneself better — not 
bettering one's situation, but bettering oneself. In the 
Church catechism, we are told that it is our duty "to 
order ourselves lowly and reverently to all our betters," 
which is a very proper maxim — only let us know who 
our betters are ; and I do not consider that those are our 
betters who have a much larger income and live in a 
grander style, but those who are morally our superiors ; 
and therefore if every man is to order himself lowly and 
reverently to all his betters, there's many a rich and titled 
man who ought to go down upon his knees before a cob- 
bler or a hod carrier ; and most of the sovereigns of Eu- 
rope ought to take off their crowns and bow to some of 



g(J LECTURES EOR TnE PEOPLE. 

their very poorest subjects. But to resume ; good times, 
in the true sense of the expression, are inseparable from 
, ,nal goodness, from the process of bettering oneself 
in intellect and in heart, and not merely in pocket ; for 
in this last respect a man may better himself greatly, and 
vet be growing worse and worse ; in fact, bettering one's 
pocket Ts not bettering oneself. If, then, there is a really 
good time coming, there is coming a time of intellectual 
culture, a time of moral elevation, a time of augmented 
knowledge, a time of temperance, of purity, of honesty, 
of benevolence and brotherly love— in one word, a time 
of godliness, for this includes all goodness, and without 
this, a period of ever so great commercial and industrial 
itv is unworthy of being called good; and, m spite 
of all the unfavorable events which may affect trade and 
commerce most injuriously, "there's a good time com- 
f or us all— and we can make it come, and come now, 
and continue long, if only we do but give ourselves to the 
Nation of virtue, and live soberly, righteously, and 
,r the remainder of our days. Those who do this 
iys have what may be called good times, and even m 
the worst times seldom suffer much, having in their hearts 
thai passeth all understanding, and a joy which 
Id, doing its ■ tnnot give, and, doing its worst, 
aW ay. Such men, practicing as they 

v , u'nvs them to do and inclines 

the p .- „•,,; g of prudence and economy, 

pay for the bad. compel the sum- 

mpp orttb alth to prepare for sickness, 

..,', andmanho ovide for the infirmities of 

ttg the burdens of life, softening 



"there's a good time coming." 87 

all its cares, and setting its anxieties at defiance. In- 
stead, therefore, of expecting that a good time will come 
of itself, that circumstances over which we have no con- 
trol will combine in some extraordinary way to produce 
an age of prosperity and happiness, I would say, let us 
make the coming time good ; for its goodness to us as in- 
dividuals is a matter that chiefly rests with ourselves, 
each man being to a great extent the maker or the de- 
stroyer of his own good times. The song, " There's a 
good time coming," will prove a true prophecy only on 
this condition — that we strive to better ourselves and 
each other. Apart from this, I would give no more for 
the prediction than for those in Old Moore's Almanac. 
How am I to know that "there's a good time coming?" 
Ten thousand times ten thousand voices joining in this 
chorus will not make the coming time good, will not make 
the assertion true. It is very possible that bad times, 
worse than we have ever seen, may be approaching. 
When a word or a gesture on the part of some imperial 
personage can fill all Europe with the fear of war, and 
cause a panic throughout the civilized world, we cannot 
confidently reckon upon a coming time of great pros- 
perity. No ; the only guarantee of a good time coming 
is to be found in our own good conduct ; and we need 
not care what gloomy predictions may be uttered with 
reference to the times, if we are only true to ourselves. 
"There's a good time coming," if we do the thing that 
is right, and not otherwise. 

But here we are, speculating about the coming time, 
and hoping for improvement, thinking of what is likely 
to be next year, and the year after, as if we knew that 



88 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

we should live to see it all, whereas it may be, and with 
regard to some of us I am at liberty to say it will be, 
that we shall be removed far away and for ever from the 
scenes of earthly activity, and hope, and toil. It is true 
we ought to base our calculations, and to shape our 
course, on the supposition that we shall live, and the 
possibility of early death should never be allowed to 
paralyse our efforts, or to destroy our interest in our 
earthly future. But still, our continued life is but a 
matter of supposition, and " we know not what shall take 
place on the morrow, for what is your life?" — what is 
mine, what the life of the youngest, strongest, healthiest 
of us all ? — " it is even a vapor, which appear eth for 
a little time, and then vanisheth away/' In all our 
thoughts of the future, therefore, the uncertainty of life 
must in all reason have a share ; the marvel is, that it 
does not almost absorb all thoughts of the future itself. 
There may be a good time coming for us in this world, 
but at the best it will be brief, and will soon pass away, 
even as a dream ; and it is a mournful consideration if 
that is all that we can expect — a few fleeting years of 
secular prosperity, of mental improvement, of moral cul- 
ture, of domestic and social happiness, and then — con- 
Bignment to the tomb. Let us, therefore, give the words 
of the song a wider range, a nobler meaning; let 
them remind us of that far better time, which shall be 
good without any alloy of evil, and which shall endure 
for evermore. Yes; there is a good time coming, a good 
iity coming — innumerable ages of peace and blessed- 
. <>f high and noble occupation, of true 
and undimmed glory. I>ut that time it not coming for 



89 

all — not for the thoughtless and unconcerned, not for the 
AYorldly and the vicious, not for the ungodly and the pro- 
fane ; for such, quite another kind of time is coming — 
a time in which they shall receive the due reward of their 
deeds ; to such, a terrible time is coming — a time of 
righteous retribution. But, happily, that time of evil 
may be escaped by all. The mercy of God gives us the 
present season for repentance, for reformation, that the 
good time coming may be ours. He hath given to us eter- 
nal life, and this life is in his Son. For this purpose, 
Christ came into the world, that through him we might 
live for ever, and the promise of that good coming time 
is made to such as, repenting of their sins, trust in him, 
whose death is the only, but all-sufficient sacrifice for 
sin. Will you, therefore, allow me to urge upon you 
the importance of securing for yourselves an interest in 
that eternity for good ? To accomplish this, there is no 
other way,— or, lest I should seem too dogmatical, I 
know of no other way,— than that which I have stated. 
We may be virtuous ; but not for our virtue shall we be 
so rewarded. If, indeed, we are to be dealt with in 
strict accordance with our character while on earth, our 
prospects are but gloomy, and we have much to fear, 
and very little to hope for. At the best, are we not un- 
profitable servants ? If I were left to build my hopes 
upon what I have been and what I have done, I could 
find for those hopes no sure foundation. But I am right 
thankful to know that not for works of righteousness 
which we have done, but according to his mercy, God 
saves us ; I am right thankful to know that Christ has 
opened the kingdom of heaven, not to all who can 



90 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

prove themselves perfect, but to all believers; I am 
right thankful to know that he died, "the just for 
the unjust, that he might bring us to God." "Will you 
trust in him rather than in yourselves ? Will you from 
this time forth be his disciples and his friends ? If you 
will, if you do, then whatever be the aspect of these 
changeful times, through which we pass in this world, 
know that of a surety the truly good time is coming, 
and will come, and the hope and prospect of that good 
time will cheer you under all the difficulties and troubles 
of this mortal state. 

My friends, I wish you good times here ; I hope that 
you may have much temporal prosperity, that trade may 
revive, and,, conducted on sound and sober principles, 
continue to flourish, uninterrupted by those crises which 
have heretofore been so fatal to our secular interests; I 
sympathise with your desire for good times, in the com- 
monest sense of the expression ; I will not say that such 
a desire is vain and sinful, and the token of undue 
worldliness of mind ; I trust that by frugality, industry, 
perseverance, and other secular virtues, you may be 
enabled to make tl and the best of the good times, 

if they come. But, at the same time. I must express 
far stronger wish, that you may. through repentance 
rd God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ, 
lity, eternal life, for these 
• >ming, without an interest and 
with all its toils, its hopes, its sue 
cesses, and i failure- 



TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. 91 



LECTURE V. 



TURNING OVER A NEW LEAP. 

Before the end of this week another year will have 
commenced; and, in accordance to the time-honored 
custom, I very heartily wish that the new year may be 
to every one of you a happy one — a happier one than 
you have ever yet seen. The year which is now draw- 
ing to a close has certainly not been remarkable for 
happiness ; the latter half of it has been a period of 
almost unexampled calamity and distress. In the sum- 
mer, the news reached us of the frightful outbreak in 
India, and our hearts were saddened by the reports of 
the atrocities perpetrated on our countrymen, their 
wives, and their children. In October came that com- 
mercial crash which has brought down so many mercan- 
tile houses — deprived so many widows and orphans of 
their all — thrown so many thousands 'of the people out 
of employment — and revealed such disgraceful and 
shocking immorality in the world of business, as shows 
with terrible force that the love of money is indeed a 
root of all evil. The year certainly closes in gloom and 
sadness. We can scarcely call this a merry Christmas ; 
to the country at large, it is the least merry of all that 



92 LECTURES TOR THE PEOPLE. 

most of us have seen ; yet, in the midst of this •widely- 
spread distress, there is much to be thankful for. Hap- 
pily, the hack of the Indian mutiny has been broken, 
through the almost unparalleled exertions of our brave 
countrymen ; while at home, the winter has so far been 
one of extraordinary mildness, so that what out-door 
work was to be done has not been suspended by reason 
of severe frosts. There is room to hope that things 
will, before long, look a little brighter, and that the new 
year will be a happier one than this. But the happiness 
of the new year to us, as individuals, depends almost 
entirely upon ourselves ; if we would be happier than 
we have been, we must become better than we have 
been. At any time it is a good thing to " turn over a 
new leaf," if we can; but the beginning of a new year 
is a time peculiarly appropriate to such an object, and 
therefore I have chosen this old saying as my motto 
this afternoon. 

To "turn over a new leaf" is a proverb which means 

to reform — to take to a better course of life than that 

which we have hitherto been pursuing. If we will but 

faithfully examine our character and conduct, I think 

deed all of us, will find that there is reason 

"turning over a new leaf." Look at what stands 

led on the M leaf; is it satisfactory? will it bear 

ligation? No; you know very well that the old 

leaf is disfigured by many mistakes and many sins; 

• is ample room for improvement, and it is high 

that the improvement was begun. Xext Friday 

morning, a clean page of time will be placed before us 

all, and it is for us to decide what shall be written on 



TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. 93 

that page ; and to remember that, with all previous 
pages of our history, it too will be scrutinised by Om- 
niscience, when, at the last, the judgment is set, and the 
books are opened, that every man may receive according 
to the deeds done in the body, whether they be good or 
evil. Let the record on this new leaf of time, then, be 
better than that which stands unalterable on the old 
leaves, and in which no erasure can be made ; surely the 
time past may suffice to have wrought the will of the 
devil, to have walked in folly and in sin. The present 
season of the year is generally consecrated to mirth, to 
eating and drinking, and jollifying. The newspapers, 
faithfully reflecting the public mind in describing the 
preparations for Christmas, lead us through the markets, 
and point out the pigs and the turkeys, and take us 
past the grocers' shops, that we may behold and admire 
the elements of plum-pudding. Christmas, in fact, 
seems to mean just this — a grand feed, and a jolly good 
spree. It appears to be an institution which has a great 
deal more to do with our stomachs than with either our 
intellects or our souls. On New Year's day, every one 
seems to be remarkably well pleased ; I really don't 
know why. The fact that we are so much older, that 
we have one year less to live, does not appear to me 
capable of rendering much satisfaction to a thoughtful 
man. Next Friday, thousands will be so glad that 
they are so much nearer to their graves, that they will 
go and get drunk on the strength of it. But, though 
perhaps as destitute of the enthusiastic Christmas spirit 
as any man in the world, I have no right to find fault 
with people for being merry ; it's all right ; but remem- 



94 LECTURES FOE THE PEOPLE. 

ber the old saying, "be merry and wise." Combine 
with the mirthfulness of the presenl , that serious 

thoughtfulness which the season has a right to suggest, 
hiL'h the season really claims. Don't inaugurate 
the new year with a spree ; the wisest way of spending 
day is to spend it in sober reflection on the 
. and good plans and resolutions for the future. 
There is not one of ns who has lived so well as to be 
incapable of improvement; there are some of us who 
must feel, or at all events ought to feel, that in their 
case, to "turn over a new leaf" is a very desirable 
thing. Let me in the first place urge the man who has 
been neglecting the cultivation of his mind "to turn 
over a new leaf." The ability to read is happily now 
very general; but the question, Can you read? being 
answered in the affirmative, there is another, of equal 
importance, What do you read ? A man may read from 
morning to night, get through volume after volume, and 
yet acquire no information, become no wiser, do himself 
no good: on the contrary, he may do himself a great 
deal of harm. The trashy sentimental tales, which form 
so very large a portion of the people's reading, have a 
decidedly injurious effect; they fill a man's head with 
foolish notions; they very often pander to his worst 
msume a large amount of time, and 
her unfit the mind for those manly books 
w hich alone are worth reading, which alone can yield 
information worth having, which alone can discipline the 
. and have a humanising and moral influence 
.,, the heart. In this matter let me ask the devourer 
f foolish, not to say immoral, tales "to turn over a new 



TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. 95 

leaf." I do not mean to pun upon my text, but really, 
if you wish to be a well informed man, you must turn 
over very different leaves from those which have engaged 
your attention ; you might as well expect to be a strong 
man by living on the thinnest water gruel, as think of 
becoming vigorous in intellect, by reading funny or ro- 
mantic stories. It is a great misfortune to have con- 
tracted such a habit ; it is not easy to get the better of 
it ; but, unless you are content to be an ignoramus and 
an ass all your days, you must get the better of it. Now 
just try; make a resolute effort; if you have been read- 
ing such wishy-washy, namby-pamby stories about counts 
and barons, with flashing eyes and dark brows, falling in 
love with fair ladies — if you have been reading that sort 
of moonshine, just try to do without it for the next six 
months at least, and read about the actual busy world 
you live in, with all the treasures of its histories, its 
biographies, its natural sciences. If you wish to gratify 
your love of the marvelous, you will find " truth far 
stranger than fiction." Read not nonsense, but common 
sense ; take to hard-headed reading, that will require 
thought and suggest reflection ; and just leave the foolish 
stories to the fools for whose special use they are written. 
Lolly-pops and gingerbread are for children, not for 
men. 

In the next place,, let me beg of the extravagant and 
improyident man to "turn over a new leaf." I have 
said so much on this point lately, that I dare say I shall 
repeat myself; but until a truth is believed in, and re- 
duced to practice, it can scarcely be too often forced 
upon our notice. Hecldess extravagance is one of the 



96 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

greatest evils of the times. It seems to pervade all 
classes of society, and it lias been one of the chief causes 
of the unwise and immoral trading which has led to the 
present smash, in which a great many persons are going 
to pieces, who ought to have gone to pieces long ago, 
who never were any thing but pieces, patched up and 
held together by low cunning and false credit. It would 
be easy to mention the names of men over whose fall 
every honest man must rejoice, and who it is to be hoped 
will never be allowed to raise then- scoundrel heads 
again in the commercial world. It is very much to be 
regretted that the law, which sends a poor wretch to gaol 
for stealing an old rope, or attempting to pass a bad shil- 
ling, deals so mildly with the merchant blackguard (for 
there are merchant blackguards, as well as merchant prin- 
ces), who plays the thief to the tune of £100,000 or more. 
Talk of the swell mob — the chief members of that hon- 
orable body are not the men who prowl about the streets 
picking pockets and robbing shops ; you will find them 
in counting houses, in banks, on railway boards, on the 
exchange; you will find them sitting in town councils, 
and even administering justice on the magistrates' bench; 
Bending poor rascals to gaol for 14 days, while they 
themselves deserve to be sent to gaol with hard labor for 
all eternity, and one day more. Comparatively few 
people arc content to live within their means; there is 
. a Bpirit ^ fcnat sentry 

to ape their betters, and to forget as soon as possible 
their humble origin. So, believing that money will 
make aristocrats of them, they manage, by hook or by 
crook, (and both are far from straight,) to get money, or 



TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. 97 

what looks like money, and set up in grand style, just 
to tumble down again, and get well kicked for their pains. 
People call them mushrooms, they are not half so good ; 
call them toadstools, and then you name them rightly. 
But the extravagance which abounds in these upstarts 
exists in a less degree amongst other and more respectable 
classes of society. It is very common amongst young 
men, who receive what they consider very limited sala- 
ries, and think it their duty to live in a style which their 
salaries won't afford. They say they must appear re- 
spectable, and so they proceed to rob their tailor and 
their landlady, and even their poor washerwoman, in 
order that they may appear respectable. Now, to be 
respectable is, I submit, a better thing than to appear 
so ; but you cannot be respectable if you are in debt ; to 
be in debt, though it is the fashion, is one of the most 
unrespectable things in the world, and it has a most de- 
moralising effect. "Lying rides on debt's back," and 
"It's hard for an empty sack to stand upright." If you 
are not ashamed of being in such a state, I think you 
are lost to all sense of shame ; I wonder you are not too 
proud to run into debt, to enable the tailor, and the 
shoemaker, and the washerwoman to point the finger of 
scorn at you, and look down upon you with contempt. 
Rather than be dunned, I think I would walk the streets 
with neither a coat nor a hat ; I do confess that I am so 
proud, that I believe dunning would soon be the death 
of me. Perhaps you don't care about it ; no, a mean- 
spirited wretch never does, and I tell you you are mean 
—miserably mean ; you are as shabby as a hat that has 
been worn for half a century in a rainy climate, if you 



98 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

can stand the degradation and infamy of being in debt. 
Come now, it is time to "turn over a new leaf;" the 

g to be considered at Christmas, by an hoi 
man, is not plum pudding, but the payment of his Christ- 
mas bills. If you are a man of lienor, you will pay them 
at once, or at all events as soon as ever you can; and if 
you can't pay them at once, then, let me ask, why you ever 
contracted them. What moral right had you to run up 
bills without a very good prospect, if not a certainty, of 
being able to pay them ? If you don't pay them forth- 
withyou have broken faith, for it is an understood thing 
that they should be paid now. This should be one of the 
first items recorded on the "new leaf"— Paid in full all 
m y debts— tailor paid— shoemaker paid— butcher paid— 
[l or( j paid— washerwoman paid— everybody paid, and 
] am a free man ! That's the style to start with on the 
"new leaf;" and if you are able to do this, and don't 
do it, you are acting unjustly and with meanness. Go 
to Coventry, and Btay there, and don't attempt to lift 
ad in decent society. "But if I can't pay bills, 
how then?" Well, if I were a creditor, I would, first 
for my nun sake, and secondly for your sake, see whe- 
ther vou can or not; I should dun you for my " little 
:",;/• iml ;i. if you have any shame at all, you would 
,t to pay; perhaps I should lose a 
. ,11, the loss would probably he a gain: 
of people who don't pay for what they get is not 
veled. The Bible, which, while it 
ightiest matters that can occupy 
dilate our secular life, 
tells ao man anything." In the complexity 



TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. 99 

of modern business, this cannot be literally carried out, 
it is true; but the spirit of the injunction is— " keep out 
of debt as much as possible," pay when payment is due; 
be prompt and punctual in all your engagements, and 
make no engagements which you cannot promptly and 
punctually meet. Let this be our rule henceforth— in- 
scribe it on the top of the "new leaf"—" Owe no man 
anything." Whatever our means are, let us strictly live 
within them. "A ploughman on his legs is better than 
a gentleman on his knees." Let us clear off old scores, 
then, exercise self-denial, pinch ourselves, all but starve 
ourselves, if so we can get out of debt, and keep out ; 
let us always "cut our coat according to our cloth," and 
not, as many people do according to some other person's 
cloth ; and so they have that other person down upon 
them, and serve them right. A wise economy, let this 
be a feature of the "new leaf— retrenchment wherever 
it is practicable. I do not quite agree with the proverb, 
"let your purse be your master;" but if it be not your 
master, let it be your counsellor ; when you wish for 
anything, consult your purse, ask it what it would ad- 
vise, and take its advice as decisive against all extrava- 
gant desires. 

As to the intemperate man, it seems almost a mockery 
to ask him to "turn over a new leaf" just now, because 
I know very well what he intends to do next Friday ; 
he'll get fuddled, as sure as Friday is the sixth day of 
the week. A New Year's day and not a jolly good spree ! 
why it seems quite irrational to be sober on that day 
above all others. He must wet the new year, and drink 
its health, of course ; he would expect no good luck all 



100 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

tlic year through, if lie did not honor its advent in the 
usual style. I am afraid there will he no " turning over 
a, new leaf in his case ; only the continuation of 
same dirty, scratched, and bloated leaf, with its difi 
record of insobriety and all the consequences of intoxi- 
cation. No, he will go on as he has done ; he won't for- 
sake the convivial meetings to which he has been accus- 
tomed, and which are his chief joy ; he will sing his songs 
and drink his bumpers, and the flowing toast shall go 
round, until the room seems to be going round ; and he 
won't go home till morning, and then he will be taken 
home in a cab, or perhaps be taken somewhere else by 
Policeman X, 497. At all events, he has been a jolly 
good fellow, which nobody can deny, and a jolly good 
fellow he will be still. Now as to this very favorite ex- 
pression — "a jolly good fellow," I'll tell what in my hum- 
ble opinion is the English of it; a jolly good fellow means 
generally ik a jolly big goose;" and I have somewhere 
i this proverl — "the king of good fellows is appointed 
for the queen of beggar-:" a very proper match. I dare 
•'jolly good fellows," if any of them have 
honored me with a visit this afternoon, will call me a 
"muff," and a "maw-worm;" a "canting parson," a 
"poor fool," that docs not know anything of the world, 
and has never seen a bit of life; for no one sees life that 
t of life; life is to be seen only in 
public-house, life is to be enjoyed only when one is 
(lllt f !,• .ns to ramble in his speech, and 

talk thick and spoony. Well, never mind, the "jolly 
■ in the morning, when he is not "jolly," but 
■ the other thing, knows very well that what I say is 



TURNING OVER A NEW LEAE. 101 

true— that he is a. "jolly big goose;" that he has been 
making an ass of himself, that it is his common practice 
to make an ass of himself; and he knows that it's time 
for him to "turn over a new leaf;" that the old leaf is a 
very dirty one, with very bad writing on it ; how can a 
man write when his head is ready to split, and his hand 
trembles as if he had the palsy ? Yes, splitting head- 
m aches— trembling hands— blue devils— a purple nose— 
" business going to ruin— one customer after another drop- 
ping off— debts increasing— home neglected — poverty 
coming on apace— the pawnshop resorted to— health shat- 
tered—mind enfeebled— a craving, burning, unsatiable 
appetite for " liquid fire and distilled damnation." My 
friend, you know it's time to "turn over a new leaf;" 
have pity upon your family; have pity upon your poor 
miserable self ; what will those jolly companions of yours 
care for you when all is spent ? they will be the first to 
spit upon you, and turn their backs upon you; talk about 
good fellowship, it's bad fellowship altogether, a misera- 
bly bad fellowship, that needs to be cemented with in- 
temperate conviviality. Better have no fellowship at aU, 
than such fellowship as this :— " he who lies down with 
dogs, will rise up with fleas." Now next Friday, being 
the first of January, will be a great day for the jolly good 
fellows; a still greater day however for "mine host," 
who will supply them with their tipple, and "whose well 
known civility it is trusted will ensure him a large mea- 
sure of public patronage." Now will you, my friend, for 
s once spend New Year's day in a rational, and not a ridi- 
culous manner? I wish you for your own sake to begin 
the year well; to " turn over a new leaf" at last ; and 



102 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE, 

through the year, let there be no more of these jolly good 
sprees. If you are a man in business, attend to* your bu- 
siness, for if you don't keep it, it won't keep you ; busi- 
ness sticks to a man only as long as he sticks to bus": 
If you are a working man, stand by your work, and be- 
gin by working on New Year's day ; that is, if you have 
work to do. I expect to be at work all that day, and 
why should you be idle ? For the future spend your 
evenings at home, where you know they ought to be spent, 
and not in the public-house; let the "new leaf contain 
no items of either time or money put down to the ac- 
count of intemperance ; try strict sobriety for a year at 
least, and see how it suits your health and your pocket, 
and your head and your heart, and your family and your 
reputation ; and I think that, once you have tried this 
"new leaf," you will never be inclined to go back to the 
old one. 

And now, if I may be allowed to approach the ill- 
tempered man, though it is ratter dangerous to do so, I 
would respectfully submit the propriety of his " turning 
over a new leaf." By an ill-tempered man, I mean a 
. angry, resentful person; a man who is very easily 
i'H out of the way; whose "monkey is soon up," and 
who makes all about him. especially his own family, 
:'v uncomfortable, by his peevish, morose, and 
wrathful disposition. Such a man often quarrels with 
wife, and, ing that lie is a man, strikes her, 

hamefully abuses her. Such outrages 
common decency are of course almost always 
results of intemperance, on one side, or on both; there 
arc men so brutal as to spend all their wages in drink, 



TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. 103 

and then, going home, they knock their wives down, 
because they don't furnish them with food and everything 
else they may require.- Now, 

11 Whatever broils disturb the street, 
There should be peace at home." 

Sometimes there may be great provocation, especially 
if a man's wife drinks ; but it is only the sober husband 
who has a right to complain of this. It won't do for 
"the pot to call the kettle black ;" " One ass ought not 
to call another long ears." If you can't resist the 
bottle, you ought to have pity on your wife's infirmity ; 
"A fellow feeling should make you wondrous kind." But 
there is no provocation that will justify a man in laying 
violent hands upon his wife. It is about the very basest 
thing a man can do ; and, rely upon it, the ruffian who 
does it is a dirty, sneaking coward. He who strikes a 
woman, has not the pluck to strike a man. But there 
are words that are worse than blows. Angry, surly, and 
unkind speeches may wound more painfully than a sword ; 
and there's many a man who would disdain to use his 
hands, who would never forgive himself the unmanliness 
of such an outrage, but who thinks that, while he abstains 
from this, he may say cutting and bitter things, which 
are far harder to endure, which are indeed more cruel 
than a beating. An old proverb says very sensibly, "An 
angry man is the devil's delight." Come, then, "turn 
over a new leaf;" why should you make yourself and 
every one about you miserable ? Try to be good- 
tempered and patient; to bear^and forbear; to forget and 
forgive. No more cross looks and cross words ; make 
home a scene of cheerfulness and harmony; give up 



104 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

growling, for growling is fit for bears only; give up 
snarling, for snarling. is the language of curs. "He that 
is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that 
ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city." 

There is a large class of persons, belonging to all 

ranks of life, who are the slaves of the very vile habit of 

speaking very vile language. They are given to what 

the Scriptures call "filthy talking ;" they can scarcely 

speak of anything, without giving utterance to some low, 

obscene, dirty, or profane expression. In the most 

flippant manner, they take the name of their Maker, and 

of Christ, in vain. It is not only when they are excited 

and angry that they speak thus ; they do it in cold blood, 

when there is not the slightest provocation ; in fact, it is 

a habit so confirmed, that they scarcely know when they 

swear. Now, apart from its profanity, this habit is 

utterly senseless ; no sort of excuse can be offered for it; 

men commit other sins under the influence of some 

temptation; but in this case, there is nothing to tempt 

The filthy talker has not a word to say in his own 

defence. Now, as a friend, I ask him to " turn over a 

new leaf," and to abandon this habit; and for his 

encouragement, I would say that I believe it to be a 

habit which can easily be abandoned, for it is a habit 

backed up by do passion or propensity of human nature. 

1 an] e filthy talker will admit that his practice is 

v and immoral. Let him remember 

that "the Lord will Dot bold him guiltless that taketfi 

His name in rain." Let him remember God's greatness; 

let him remember God's goodness; and then say whether 

it is nut an intolerable thing, that a man should lightly 



TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. 105 

take that glorious and awful name upon his lips — that 
name which angels never utter without the deepest 
solemnity and reverence. It is a very common practice 
for masters to curse and swear at their men ; they seem 
to think they cannot get their work done, unless they 
storm away and rage. Now this is a great mistake ; bad 
language never gets good work done : it may make a man 
angry, it will never make him industrious. The men see 
that the swearing master is out of temper ; and the 
moment this is the case, the men are masters. Men 
won't be abused ; or, if they appear to submit, they will 
take their change out of the master one way or another. 
Firmness combined with kindness will obtain from men 
an amount of work which angry bluster never will. The 
habit of filthy talking is very common amongst young 
men. It is considered almost an accomplishment ; a 
mark of high spirit ; a proof of knowledge of the world ; 
an evidence that a young man has nothing of the saint 
about him, and an evidence of this it certainly is ; but it 
is also an evidence of a shallow understanding, an empty 
head, and a vicious heart. Since it is so senseless and 
so immoral, would it not be well to give it up ? Let us 
hear no more of it ; in the name of common decency, put 
a stop to it, and let there be no bad language on the 
"new leaf." 

There is a considerable number of tradesmen, too, who 
would do well to "turn over a new leaf;" to give up 
their mean and miserable trickery. I often see in the 
newspapers, the names of persons whose weights and 
measures are false. I am thankful to the newspapers 
for giving their names ; and I ask you to mark them ; to 



106 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

ah- tain from dealing with them; and, in plain English, I 
you to do all you can to drive such rascals from the 
town. One common trick is to have a piece of hacon 
under the selling-scale ; I suppose the idea is, that if it 
be discovered, the excuse may be made, that it is quite 
an accident; the bacon happened to be lying on the 
counter, and stuck to the scale ; but, curiously enough, 
the bacon never sticks to the side in which the weight is 
put ; the bacon is always against the customer. Now I 
hold that if ever any man is even once convicted of this, 
or any similar dirty trick, it is a positive sin, as well as a 
great piece of foolishness, ever to go to his shop again. 
It's time such a fellow was shut up ; he is a thief of the 
lowest and most cowardly grade. As to the flaming 
ertisements, which promise so much, it is a wonder 
that any one is soft enough to believe them. Surely a 
man's common sense must tell him that, when a trades- 
man professes to be all but giving away valuable goods, 
he is not to be believed. When I see in the papers a 
yasl .-pace left blank, and in the centre of it a small but 
vehement advertisement, as I look at the disproportion 
between the space and the advertisement, I conclude 
that th< little in it; that as there is more blank 

than print in the advertisement, so there are more blanks 
than prizes in tl bised. But as to the 

artful (1 • almost innumerable; 

as — most of them are very 

dirty. If i1 to adopt them, in order to 

. all 1 can say is, that the sooner an 

honorable man gets out of such business the better. I 

Bhall be told that I know nothing about it; well, I don't 



TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. 107 

know much; it would require a long apprenticeship to 
put one up to all the moves ; but I do know this, that 
dishonesty in every shape is an abomination ; that lies, 
whether white or black, are bad; and since the white lies 
are often more cowardly and sneaking than the black 
ones, I think they are the worst lies of all. If money 
cannot be made on the highest principles of honor, then 
let it not be made at all. " What shall it profit a man, 
if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" And 
by dishonesty, persisted in, he certainly will lose his soul. 
Among the mercantile classes, fraud has discovered itself 
on a gigantic scale. It's time to "turn over a new leaf," 
I think, in our commercial morality. 

Once more, let me address those who have not been in 
the habit of spending the Sunday in a wise and profitable 
way. I am not one of those stern and rigid Sabba- 
tarians, who frown upon a Sunday walk as a dreadful 
sin. So far as a Sunday walk in the country is beneficial 
to the health of the working man, who has been pent up 
in a shop all the week, and who lives in some dirty den, 
which the light and air of heaven can scarcely reach, 1 
say, by all means enjoy your Sunday walk ; I believe it 
will do you good, in body and in soul; it is a most 
rational and a most Christian manner of spending part 
of the Sunday ; what part, it is not for me to prescribe. 
But the care of the body is a religious duty, and there 
are thousands in this great town, to whose health a walk 
in the country, or on the shore, practicable on no other 
day, is an invaluable blessing. Instead of asking God's 
pardon for taking it, rather thank him for his goodness 
in enabling you to take it. But your soul requires 



108 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOrLE. 

religious instruction, and therefore let me entreat of you 
to frequent the house of God, where such instruction is 
admi I where you may unite with others in 

the delightful work of prayer and praise. I make no 

apt to pr< a to my church, or to any other 

in particular; II bis entirely to your conscientious 

convictions, and do not wish to Lias you either one way 
or another. There is truth in all churches; perhaps 
there is error also in them all ; but wherever they teach 
that Jesus Christ came into the world to die for us and 
to save us, there you will find the truth which is most 
important for you and me to know. In " turning over a 
new leaf," then, don't forget the Sundays; let them be 
well spent, not in listless idleness, not in pleasure-taking 
and dissipation, but in such engagements as will give 
health to your body, instruction to your mind, and 
comfort to your heart. 

I now conclude the fourth year of these Sunday after- 
noon addresses ; the favorable manner in which they have 
been received, the earnest attention which they have com- 
manded, and the good results, temporal and spiritual, 
which if I chose to speak of them I could show have been 
produced, call for my deepest thankfulness to that kind 

idence which lias enabled in.' BO far to persevere, and 

which has put into my hands the* 'unities of at- 

ad to 1 ach my fell* -men. 

le health and ■ eiously vouchsafed to 

by him who is the Father of all our mercies, I shall 

tinue in ; ; abating interest in 

it : and your attention is an ample recompense forthe la- 

l, of preparing to meet so vast an 



TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. 109 

audience as congregates within these walls. I am sure 
you will allow me to convey to the gentlemen who have 
kindly placed this hall at our service, your cordial thanks, 
together with my own, for their continued liberality. And 
now, my friends, standing as we do on the verge of this 
departing year, and almost on the threshold of another, I 
pray that God- Almighty may bless and keep you all — - 
you and your families ; that in his good providence 
brighter days may soon dawn upon those whom the pre- 
sent distress so heavily afflicts ; and that those brighter 
days, spent rationally and virtuously, may all be conse- 
crated to His service. Receive His gospel ; trust in His 
love ; manfully bear up under every adversity ; nobly 
struggle against every temptation. I wish you many 
years of happiness and virtue ; and when your day of life 
is done, and you sink into the sleep of death, may God 
" make you to be numbered with his saints, in glory 
everlasting V! 



110 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 



LECTURE VI. 

TAKING CARE OF NUMBER ONE. 

Every body knows what is meant by "Number One." 
"Number One" is self, and taking care of "number one" 
is therefore taking care of one's self. Now to take care 
of one's self, to be mindful of one's own interest, is so 
natural and so general a practice, and a practice which of- 
ten assumes such offensive and contemptible modes of op- 
eration, that you may perhaps suppose that, if referred to 
at all by a man who wishes to instruct and benefit his fel- 
low men. it should be referred to only to be condemned, 
and held up to execration. But there is a right way as 
well aa a wrong way of taking care of "number one;" 
to take care of " number one" in the right way is 
. man's highest duty. The plain fact is, that the 
d burden of the Scriptures is to tell us how to take 
of "number one," to guard us against mistaki 
taking care of "numl to do this, 

•—to believe Buch a thing, and not to 

that we may 

Y "number one." 

L3 fou m1 .,d to this 

tne y ;ir , lfish, and yet, instead of 



TAKING CARE OE NUMBER ONE. Ill 

securing their self-interest, they in their selfishness ruin 
themselves. Some take no care at all of " number one ;" 
others are very careful, but their carefulness is misdi- 
rected ; they take care of only a part of "number one," 
and generally that part which is of least importance ; 
they do not seem to understand what " number one" 
really is ; and if they do not understand this, they can 
scarcely be expected to take a wise care of "number 
one." Now "number one" is a compound creature; 
"number one" consists of body and soul; I do not wish 
to understate, nor do I wish to overstate, the importance 
of either, but certainly there is no wise care taken of 
"number one" unless the interests of both are consulted; 
and further, the interests of the soul are more important 
than those of the body, for several reasons, but chiefly 
for this reason — that it is indestructible, that it will sur- 
vive the body, and live on for ever ; at least such is my 
belief, and such I take it for granted is yours also. This 
doctrine of immortality is not founded upon a desire to 
live for ever ; in fact, there are many who have no such 
desire, who very much dread immortality, and to whom it 
would be a relief to feel certain that death is annihilation, 
that the soul perishes with the body. But the expecta- 
tion of immortality, whether accompanied by hope or by 
fear, is one of the deep and ineradicable instincts of hu- 
man nature, wherever man is found ; excepting perhaps 
in some cases in which he is most shockingly degraded 
by ignorance, he is found to possess this instinct. I do 
not know, iadeed, that any clear case has been established 
of any people utterly destitute of it ; and in proportion 
as men are intelligent and civilised, this instinct is strong 



112 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

and well defined. Moreover, its correctness is strongly 
confirmed by the testimony of reason ; a sound and im- 
partial judgment ever gives its verdict in favor of it ; 
in addition to this, that book which I believe can be 
proved to have " God for its author," and vrhich there- 
fore must have "truth for its matter," proclaims it to be 
a fact, that the soul is to exist for ever in a state of con- 
sciousness, and in happiness or sorrow accordingly as we 
have or have not taken care of " number one." So this 
taking care of " number one" is, you perceive, a very im- 
portant matter ; the subject of this afternoon's address 
is very extensive ; it has its secular aspect, it has its re- 
ligious aspect also ; it has much to do with time— more 
to do with eternity. Taking care of "number one" 
means much more than providing food and raiment, and 
all other comforts of the present life; that is taking care 
of only a part of " number one," and the inferior, be- 
cause the perishable part. It is ridiculous to say that a 
man takes care of " number one" if he does no more 
than this; such a man is "penny wise and pound fool- 
ish :" very careful about the odd coppers, altogether care- 
about the silver and the gold. Let this, then, be 
distinctly understood, let the nature of "number one" 
be considered, let it be borne in mind that "number 
one" consists of two things, body and soul, and that to 
of "number one" aright, a man must take care of 
both these, especially the latter. Further, I think it can 
be shown, that, in taking proper care of cither of these 
elements of "number one," we are inflicting no damage 
on the other; a wise care of the body and its interests 
tells in favor of the soul and its interests; and, in like 



TAKING CARE OF NUMBER ONE. 113 

manner, he who is most careful of his soul adopts the 
course which is most likely to be advantageous to his secu- 
lar welfare. 

" Taking care of number one" is an expression gene- 
rally applied to things secular ; a care of the body and 
the interests of the body. Very well ; let us first con- 
sider it in this sense. It is every man's duty, his reli- 
gious duty, to take care of the inferior element of " num- 
ber one." Perhaps, you say, that there can be no ne- 
cessity for urging this upon any man ; of course every 
man will take care of "number one" so far; however 
unmindful of "number one's" highest interests, everv 
one but an idiot will see to it that "number one's" body 
shall be well looked after. I may very much wish that 
such were the fact, but it is not so ; it is very far indeed 
from being so. If men did thus take care of " number 
one," there would be scarcely any illness, comparatively 
few early deaths, and hardly a pauper in the land. Se- 
cularism ! — verily, a wise secularism is one of the great 
wants of the age. Most men, with all their selfishness, 
don't seem to know how to take care of themselves. 
Instead of taking care of "number one," their chief ob- 
ject is to gratify " number one ;" now, if " number one" 
is to be taken care of, it must not be indulged with the 
gratification of all its desires ; it must often be denied, 
held in check, or it will soon destroy itself. If you 
would take care of " number one," it is of prime impor- 
tance, it is of absolute necessity, to be temperate. In- 
temperance, in its most common form of intoxication, is 
one of the most determined enemies of " number one." 
The very word "intoxicate" tells us this; for, as I had 



114 LECTURES FOB THE PEOI>LE. 

occasion some time ago to observe, when lecturing on 
"Words," this word "intoxicate" means neither more nor 
less than to poison; always bear this in mind— to be in- 
toxicated, is to be poisoned; and a man cannot poison 
himself again and again without feeling the effects oi his 
suicidal conduct. In taking care of "number one," 
then you will take care not to enter the public-house, 
the gin-shop, the beer-shop, unless you are absolutely 
necessitated to do so. It's all up with "number one 
when he takes to the bottle. If "number one" allows 
this dreadful appetite for drink to overcome him, then 
"number one" must suffer in health and strength, in 
food and raiment, in reputation, in every thing. But 
by temperance, I mean much more than freedom from 
intoxication; temperance implies the restraint of every 
passion; all manner of dissipation must be carefully 
led if you would preserve " number one." The sc- 
of a strong, healthy manhood, is a youth of sobriety 
•■ „d ,mnt v. He who lives fast, must die fast. " Be not 
ived/God is not mocked." So! God certainly is 
not mocked; there is no evading His laws ; obey them, 
thoy will preserve you; violate them, they will destroy 
70U Whatever a man soweth, that also shall he reap, 
:,,„, ..],e that soweth to the flesh, .ball of the flesh reap 
■ Suicide, far from being a rare crime is 
mon under the sun. Those who kill 
by blowing their brains out. banging them-' 
, drowning themselves, or taking prussic acid, 
ar e •' ■ but among the number of sui- 

, mu8 t reckon the thousands, the myriads, who 
bill themselves with what they call pleasure. All vicious 



TAKING CARE OF NUMBER ONE. 115 

indulgence is heavily reckoned for at the last, "for 
though God comes with leaden feet, he strikes with iron 
hands." If upon all -the tombstones in our places of 
sepulture the whole truth were inscribed, some very 
startling facts would be revealed ; no small proportion 
of those monuments would be found to mark the graves 
of persons who, in one way or another, had killed them- 
selves. The Word of God and our own good sense re- 
quire us, imperatively require us, to keep our bodies "in 
temperance, soberness, and chastity;" need I say that 
this is absolutely essential, if we would take care of 
"number one ?" 

If " number one" is to be taken care of, we must also 
take care to be industrious. If "number one's" father, 
or somebody else, has already taken care of him by pro- 
viding for his wants, then industry is not imperatively 
required, although "number one" will never be the worse 
for active employment. " If you don't want work for 
food, you will want it for physic," says an old pro- 
verb. But, happily— I say happily, and not unhappily 
' — for most of us, we must eat our bread " in the sweat 
of our face," if we eat any at all ; and we have no time 
to throw away. A working man in full employment, 
and good wages, will find all his work no more than 
enough to secure for himself and his family the common 
comforts of life, and. to make a small provision for old 
age ; yet, of all men, I must say the working man seems 
to think that he has most time to spare. Merchants 
and tradesmen cannot afford to keep Saint Monday — 
never think of such a thing ; they know that they must 
be at their post every day, and in all the hours of business. 



116 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

Now the working man who intends to take care of 
-number one" must take care of his Mondays, and his 
morning quarters, and take care never to go on the 
spree— "number one" can't afford this. The fluctua- 
tions and disturbances of trade so often compel men to 
short time, as to render voluntary short time altogether 
inexcusable. 

We are now passing through a crisis, which I think 
ought to teach us the necessity of being industrious when 
work can be had. The present depression, it is generally 
feared, will last a considerable time, and be productive 
of much misery ; but a time like the present may be 
turned to sood account— may be of greater service than 
a time of great prosperity, of full employment, of high 
wages ; we may learn something from it— we may be the 
■ in consequence of it. To speak of the cause of this 
or propose any remedy for it, is not my province 
—I do not understand the subject, I leave it to men of 
business; but it certainly seems to me to teach us all this 
practical lesson— "to make hay while the sun shines." 
I shall not ask whether we have done this in prosperous 
times that are past-whether then working men, knowing 
that such prosperity could not last forever, made the 
• of their opportunities. I do not wish to speak one 
ful word to the man who now, pinched with 
hun hen lie might have worked, he 

idled liis till .. y losing quarters, wasting Mondays, 

the races, and in other ways; but let us learn 
a lesson for our guidance in the future. These bad 
times will pi A be followed by another period of 

activity. When that period arrives, let us put into 



TAKING CARE OF NUMBER ONE. 117 

practice the lesson which our adversity ought to teach 
-us. I am too well aware that, in many cases, to tell a 
man to be industrious ~now, is only to mock him; most 
willingly would he work, but, let him look where he will, 
he cannot find a job at any price. I am afraid that 
" number one" will in many instances be compelled to 
apply to the parish for relief, or to depend upon charity. 
There's no use in making a row, getting up a bread riot, 
or anything of that sort ; every disturbance of the peace 
is not only wrong, but ruinous— it will make bad worse. 
I need not enlarge upon this point ; the working men 
have, I trust, far too much good sense to suppose that 
any violent demonstration can be of the slightest service 
in alleviating their condition. The patience and manly 
fortitude of the people, under circumstances of depression 
almost amounting to starvation, are beyond all praise. 
Try to bear up a little longer ; the laws of England will 
allow no man to starve. However heavy the rates may 
be, they must be paid, and the rich must by law share 
the burden with the poor. But let not this lesson be 
forgotten ; let this gloomy winter put an end to wilful 
idleness, to all reckless loss of time. When work becomes 
plentiful again, stick to it— make the most of it— get aU 
you can out of it ; work like men, from Monday morning 
until Saturday evening— six days, aye, seven days, if 
you can get overtime. Resolve henceforth never to waste 
the Monday ; a man ought to be fresher for his work on 
that clay than on any other, and will be so, if he spends 
the Sunday in a rational and Christian manner. Resolve 
to have no more sprees at Christmas, New Year, Easter, 
and Whitsuntide. Never mind the races— stick to your 



llg LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

work The season of renewed prosperity, which certainly 
will come before very long, will say to all men, "Now is 
time, here's another chance for you." Don't lose 
that chance, like past chances; it, too, will soon slip 
away, and be followed by another period of disastrous 
failure like the present. But if "number one" wont 
work hard and constantly in good times, he must expect 
to be very miserable in bad times. 

In taking care of "number one," it is necessary, also, 
to practice^ a very rigid economy. Just at present, I 
dare say, economy is compulsory on many; but it is an 
indisputable fact, that as surely as the times improve 
the public houses are thronged, and the most wilful 
avagance immediately sets in again. The question 
is not simply, What does a man earn? but also, What 
doea , ,vc? or rather, What can a man save? If 

a man's strength and skill can command more money 
than is necessary for the supply of his daily wants, and 
^antsof his family, surplus is the gift of Gods 
| providence, and ougl < 'tainly to be hus- 

bhe h«»ur of need. The desirableness, 
tbe of laying up for a "rainy 

day," will be admitted by nil : tt fiity of doing 

• know,wil] be denied by some. However, there is 
]inl] :, , ,. than to say I can't, but I can't often 
m eans I won't. There is a little word which contains 
muc] ,. tQa1 W ord is try. Let me ask the man 

wno pronounces il impossible to save anything, whether 
bas honestly and perseveringly tried to save, and if 
tried it, and found it out of the question, 
J would further ask, Wha1 sort of a person is your wife? 



TAKING CARE OF NUMBER ONE. 119 

for a great deal depends upon that, I must admit. If 
we will but deny ourselves luxuries, and do away with 
other artificial wants", few of us, in good health and 
constant employment, will find it impossible to live at 
least a little within our means. And even in providing 
the necessaries and comforts of life, there is an extrava- 
gant, and there is an economical method; one great 
point is ready money ; no going on tick. People must 
pay more, and ought to pay more, when they get things 
on credit, than when they pay cash down ; the things are 
in fact lent, and the tradesman is a fool if he does not 
charge for the loan ; he, as well as the customer, has a 
right to take care of "number one." Great facilities 
are offered for buying on credit, but rely upon it, it is, 
for a working man, a most mischievous system ; avoid it 
by all means ; never mortgage your wages, unless under 
the most severe pressure of bad times. By the exercise 
of self-denial in purchasing only what we really want, 
and by the exercise of discretion in making siich pur- 
chases, something may perhaps be saved ; and if it be 
only three pence a week, it is not to be despised. Large 
wages with extravagance, will not go anything like so 
far as small wages with economy. The question of 
expenditure is as important as the question of income ; 
there are many men who know how to get money, but 
nave no idea how to keep it. It all goes, week by week ; 
it is all eaten and drunk, often before it is earned. When 
"number one" is properly taken care of, he always has 
a shilling in his pocket, after all his debts are paid — 
r s. 
Now, from all that has been said, if what has been 



120 LECTURES EOR THE PEOPLE. 

said is correct, it must be very clear, that although tho 
art of taking care of ''number one" is supposed to be 
TStood and practiced by every one, it is an art very 
rarely understood, and still more rarely practiced ; the 
intemperance, the licentiousness, the idleness, the extra- 
nee, that are so general, are all proofs that men, 
with all their selfishness, do not take care of "number 
one," but serve "number one" most shamefully. The 
man who is his own enemy, is a man whom you meet 
with every day. Our motto may appear rather a Belfish 
maxim, but there is a measure in which il wise 

and very proper. Society groans under the evils that 
result from an excessive care of "number one," from 
such a care of "number one" as withdraws all sympathy 
from "number two," and every other number; but I 
think that society also groans under the evils that result 
from the opposite extreme ; from self-neglect, from im- 
providence, intemperance, id: ad extravagance. 
Therefore, I say, do take i are of " number one:"' 
don't be selfish; at the same time, remember the lawful 
us of self, and the fact that when "number one" 
3 not take care of itself, it must impose itself upon 
Iety. Be strictly sober, b< rtrious, be 
take rare of y^ur health, of your work, of 
u will take care of "number one," 
in :• secular Bens • at 1 

But now, Buppose all thi ; kcn 

fully '." N >i at all. '!' who takes care of 

« ni; her, is a fool; he is 

pronoun Less an authority than God himself; 

f or ardly knew what to do 



TAKING CARE OF NUMBER ONE. 121 

with his wealth, but at last resolved to pull down his 
barns and build greater, when God said to him, " Thou 
fool, this night shall thy soul be required of thee." He 
was a very wise man in the estimation of his neighbors ; 
God declared all this worldly wisdom folly. Not long 
ago, a merchant died worth about $30,000,000 ; he had 
commenced life, I believe, as a porter, and, by his 
industry and ability, had risen from step to step, until 
he was the owner of such a prodigious fortune. His 
career and character were reviewed by some of the 
newspapers, and he was extolled as an example worthy 
of imitation, a model for our young men of business. 
Now, there, you will say, was a man who knew how to 
take care of "number one." Thirty millions of dollars! 
Was ever "number one" better provided for? Wait until 
you hear the sequel. That man, with nearly $5,000 a 
day, believed that he was in a state of utter destitution ; 
it is said that he hired himself to be his own gardener, 
and was paid so much a day ; and it is also asserted that 
he used to be driven in his carriage every week to receive 
out-door relief from the poor-law guardians ; he died, I 
suppose, in the belief that he would be buried by the 
parish, and that was the end of his taking care of 
"number one." And that man's case was not at all 
singular ; it is a very common result of intense selfish- 
ness, and the continual and constant pursuit of money. 
The history of Liverpool, the history of every commercial 
community, furnishes similar examples. I was told, the 
other day, of a successful man of business, worth 
$1 50,000 or $200,000, who was so afraid of being 
starved to death, that he drowned himself. That's a 



122 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

precious way of taking care of " number one," is it not ? 
But these, you will say, though not rare, are still excep- 
tional eases ; well, exceptional they are ; yet, supposing 

loes not go mad with the money fever, still, " V 
shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and 

own soul?" Taking care of "number one!" my 
friends, it's all nonsense to talk about it, if all that is 
taken care of is a man's body and estate. I have given 
to this secular care what I think you will admit is its full 
measure of importance ; I have advocated it, pressed it 
upon your attention as a matter of duty, but I should 
not be dealing fairly with you, or with my subject, if I 
left the matter resting here, and wound up the " taking 
care of number one" in such duties as arc related to 
health and secular plenty. But "number one" is a 
creature endowed with an intellectual and a moral 
nature; and "number one" is not taken care of unless 
these departments of his being be well attended to, and 
made the most of. 

Taking care of "number one," therefore, implies edu- 
cation: the acquisition of usefu] knowledge; the cultiva- 
he intellectual powers. However rich a mam may 
become, if he continues in brutish ignorance, lie lias dis- 
i | ed - number one." If you would take 
u must not only work industri- 
conomical and provident in 
also read; you must avail 
Les which arc offered by a 
public libraries ; and you must read the 
i twaddling novels, much less 
- £ an i mm oral tendency, but works containing solid 



TAKING CARE OE NUMBER ONE. 123 

information— history, travels, science, and such miscella- 
neous literature as will invigorate and humanise your na- 
ture. I have spoken of " number one's" body and estate, 
I now ask you to take care of " number one's" mind; 
don't let that go all your life long uninformed, in dark- 
ness and ignorance, when so many opportunities are af- 
forded of obtaining for it not only gratification, but im- 
provement. And, further, when "number one's" mind 
is taken care of, it will do a great deal towards taking 
care of " number one's" body and estate, for " knowledge 
is power." If "number one" is ignorant, the probability 
is that he will be poor, and poor for life. But altogether 
apart from the pecuniary advantages which knowledge 
generally affords, it yields pleasures of a pure, refining, 
and ennobling character ; the pursuit of it occupies the 
mind, refreshes it, strengthens it, and gives it wondrous 
power to drive its cares away ; and if intellectual culture 
has not a directly moralising tendency, it is thus far in 
favor of sound morals, that it fills up the leisure hours 
which might otherwise be given to dissipation. There 
are thousands who spend the evening in the public-house 
and the "free and easy," not so much because they are 
desirous to go to either the one place or the other, as be- 
cause they have nothing else to do. They have no intel- 
lectual tastes, no employment for the mind, and the time 
hangs heavily upon. their hands. And now, if in these 
bad times you cannot get work, you will have more lei- 
sure for reading until the times improve ; you can take 
care of "number one's" mind, at all events, and gain 
knowledge 7 if you cannot gain money. 

But however well-informed a man may become, "mini- 



124 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

ber one" has a moral as well as an intellectual nature ; and 
loral nature especially is to be taken care of. " Tak- 
ing care of number one" is an expression which, in its 
highest signification, must include taking care of "num- 
ber one's" soul; for this, as I have already remarked, 
and as every sensible man will admit, this is the best part 
of "number one." The time will soon arrive when all 
other care of " number one" will be felt to be as nothing 
compared with this. Neither wealth nor knowledge, how- 
ever great, will compensate for the lack of this. If you 
do not believe in your immortality, I have no time now 
to argue the point with you ; but if you do, you will ac- 
knowledge that your soul has a right to be cared for, has 
the first claim, and not the last, upon your care, for the 
soul is in peril in consequence of sin. It is not fit for 
the purity and the joy of a heavenly state. It must be 

right with God and with itself. Therefore, when I 
say bake care of "number one," I mean take care of 
"number one's" immortal interests ; of "number one's" 
prospects for a life beyond the present. Am I to live 

in, do you ask? Oh yes, my brother, you are to live 
again; i1 r inevitable destiny. You are to live 

in, if there be any truth in the deepest human in- 
igorous human reasoning, and in the 
book which most of us, 1 dare Bay, believe to be from 
God. You are to live again m glory or iu shame; in 
happi in sorrow. And I appeal to your common 

. whether any man is taking care of himself 
aright, * care he is taking of his body, of his es- 

Ltellect, if he % no care about the fu- 

nic; taking no care that it shall he a life of the right 



TAKING CARE OF NUMBER ONE. 125 

sort, and not of the wrong sort ; a life with angels and 
good men, and not with devils and scoundrels ; a life in 
the brightness of God's presence, and not in the darkness 
of eternal despair. How is a man thus to take care of 
"number one?" I believe the way to be very simple; 
you may differ from me ; you may be sceptical ; still you 
will allow me to give my opinion ; an opinion which I do 
not hold alone, which I do not hold in common with weak 
and superstitious people only ; but an opinion, or rather 
a deep, strong, most firm conviction, held by ten thou- 
sand times ten thousand of the wisest and the best of 
men ; and that conviction is, that a man takes care of 
his soul, when he takes care to believe and rely upon the 
mercy of God unto eternal life, through the merits of 
Jesus Christ, who came into the world, not to condemn 
it, but to save it. And further, the soul is to be taken 
care of, by taking care to shun and to hate all sin ; every 
thing morally wrong ; all intemperance, all impurity, all 
untruthfulness, all uncharitableness, all evil passions and 
vile affections, which all war against the soul. No god- 
less, vicious man is in reality taking care of "number 
one ;" he may be industrious, he may be economical, he 
may be rich; he may have his $30,000,000 ; he may be 
intelligent and well-informed, the world may think him a 
model of wisdom ; but the man is a most consummate sim- 
pleton. With all his selfishness, he has not taken care 
of himself, since he has left his soul to take its chance ; 
and not even inquired what that chance really is, and 
whether the odds are not very heavily against him. Proba- 
bly he has taken care of every thing else ; he has made his 
will; he has pointed out how his estate, his house, his 



120 LECTURES Toil THE PEOPLE. 

furniture, arc to be disposed of; and the poor fool 
never given a serious thought to the question, "How 
I to be disposed of— I myself, this much loved ' numb cl- 
one V" Surely " man that is in honor and understand- 
iot, is like the Leasts that perish 1" 
Take care of ''number one," then, by all means, but 
take the right sort of care ; consider what " number one" 
is, and what kind of care it calls for at your hands. Take 
care of " number one's" body and estate, by temperance, 
by chastity, by cleanliness, by healthful exercise, by ab- 
staining from all excess, by industry, by economy, by a 
wise investment of what you may be able to save. Take 
care of "number one's" intellect, by feeding it with 
wholesome and not unwholesome food. And, though I 
mention it last, it is not because it is least, for indeed it 
is far the greatest, take care of "number one's" soul, by 
trusting in the mercy of your God, through the merit of 
your Saviour, and by walking in that path of truth and 
purity and goodness which God approves. Thus, and 
an we take care of " number one." So then, 
whenever we hear this common expression, and whenever 
use of it, let us consider well its extensive im- 
. and the great practical truths, secular and religious, 
which, when rightly understood, it must suggest to every 
thoughtful man. 



PENNY WISE AND POUND FOOLISH. 127 



LECTURE VII 



PENNY WISE AND POUND FOOLISH. 

TnERE is in the world a good deal of false economy, 
which turns out in the end to be great and ruinous ex- 
travagance. There are many people who believe that 
they are laying out time, and money, and effort to the 
best advantage, when in reality they are squandering 
them in the most wasteful manner possible. There are 
many old sayings which illustrate this mistake, and put 
us on our guard against it. For example : "To lose a 
sheep for a halfpenny worth of tar ;" "To spare at the 
spigot, and let out at the bunghole;" "For want of a 
nail the shoe was lost, for want of a shoe the horse was 
lost, for want of a horse the rider was lost ;" to which I 
add, as the shortest and most exact description of the 
error which we are about to discuss, the proverb, which 
I have chosen as the motto of this lecture, "Penny Wise 
and Pound Foolish." The conduct indicated by these 
proverbs is far from uncommon. There are some people 
who are both penny foolish and pound foolish, or rather, 
who are so foolish with their pennies, that they never 
have pounds to be foolish with at all ; people who have no 
notion whatever of economy and thrift, who live from hand 



128 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOrLE. 

to mouth, and, whenever they get money, spend it with the 
utmost possible despatch. For such folk this lecti 
not intended ; the penny foolish I must for the present 
kave in their folly. I wish to speak to the penny 
and to guard them, if I can, against the mistake of be- 
coming pound foolish; I wish to speak to those who 
really have some idea of saving and economical habits, 
but who very possibly mistake the cheap for the clear, 
and the dear for the cheap, and so lose all the benefits 
of their industry and their toil. 

Sometimes we find " the penny wise and pound fool- 
ish" principle illustrated on a very large scale by Govern- 
ment. The " collective wisdom," hereditary and eh ct< d, 
often shows itself to be but a "penny wisdom," saving a 
little and losing much. For example: it makes some- 
thing in the Excise department, by licensing such a mul- 
titude of beer-houses ; but every man must be perfectly 
aware that the loss to the country, arising from the in- 
temperance, the idleness, and the extravagance nurtured 
by the beer-house, is immeasurably greater than the en- 
tire amount which the Excise yields to the revenue. 
For while the money loss is great, this is the smallest 
of comfort, there is a loss of indus- 
try, thi iral deterioration, there is ignorance, 
there is brutishness, there is crime— all encouraged, all 
t.. a gnat extent produced, by the beer-housr 

en think of the paper duty; I believe it returns to 
the Government a little more than a million, in hard 
cash; but it is a heavy tax upon the Bpread of know- 
ledge, upon the communication of thought; it interferes 
with the mental and moral culture of the people; we put 



PENNY WISE AND POUND FOOLISH. 129 

down to its credit a million ; if we could put to its credit 
ten millions, there would be a heavy balance against it, 
in the fact that it is a barrier to national enlightenment, 
and therefore most injurious to national morals — a most 
flagrant case of " penny wise and pound foolish," and 
one which it is to be hoped public opinion will soon 
compel Government to correct. 

And now to come to another, but not unimportant, illus- 
tration of our motto. I would observe that many people 
are " penny wise and pound foolish" in the matter of 
educating their children. Very often boys are taken 
from school just at the time when they are really 
beginning to learn something, when they are capable of 
making progress, and when the rudimentary instruction 
of earlier years has prepared them to advance. At the 
age of twelve or thirteen they can earn a trifle of money, 
earn possibly enough to keep themselves in food and 
clothing. In some of the manufacturing districts they 
can be set to work much earlier ; and I have seen little 
things of six or seven years cooped up in hot and dusty 
rooms, and kept there until seven or eight o'clock at 
night, to the ruin of their health, as well as the impov- 
erishment of their minds. Of course there is a tempta- 
tion, and, when parents are very poor, a strong tempta- 
tion, to compel children to earn their own bread as soon 
as possible. But it is very false economy to do so ; it 
places an almost insurmountable barrier in the way of a 
lad's advancement in the world. A wise parent there- 
fore will, I think, do all in his power, and, if need be, 
make great sacrifices, to keep his children at school be- 
yond the years of mere infancy. Out of school, that 
9 



130 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

boy of twelve could earn perhaps three shillings a-week ; 
but don't suppose that in school he is earning nothing. 
There, if the school and the boy himself be good for 
anything, he is earning what is worth a great deal more 
than three shillings a-week ; he is furnishing himself 
with that knowledge which must be his capital when he 
enters on the business of life. So much arithmetic 
learned every week, so much geography, so much his- 
tory, so much geometry, algebra, natural philosophy, 
grammar — all this, earned every week, is worth a great 
deal more than the three shillings which he could get 
as an errand-boy. To deprive him of all this, is- to make 
a terrible sacrifice, is certainly to act in the "penny wise 
and pound foolish" style. Therefore, if you can avoid 
it, do so ; if, by means of any self-denial, you can keep 
your son at school until he reaches the age of fifteen, 
you will have no reason to regret the exercise of such 
self-denial, you will be amply repaid for it. Even if he 
should not live to profit by his education, or if, through 
his misconduct in after-life, he should disappoint all your 
hopes, still you will have the consciousness of having 
discharged your duty to him, of having done your best 
to make him a prosperous, useful, and respectable man. 
Sometimes the "penny wise and pound foolish" prin- 
ciple is exhibited in the choice which people make of a 
place to dwell in. All our large towns, and this town 
certainly as much as any other, abound in houses — if 
houses they can be called — which are not fit to be the 
abodes of beasts, but are, nevertheless, densely inhabited 
by men, women, and children. The problem, How to 
crowd the largest number of human beings into the 



PENNY WISE AND POUND POOLISH. 131 

smallest possible space, has been as triumphantly solved 
by our architects and builders, as hj our grave-diggers. 
The narrow, dark, unventilated, undrained, unwholesome, 
dwellings of the poor are a reproach to us, a shame and 
a misery to behold; all that municipal authorities and 
boards of health can do is unavailing to make these 
wretched abodes as healthy as they ought to be; they 
are, and they must be, the haunts of pestilence and 
death. There are some whose unavoidable poverty 
leaves them no other resource than to shelter themselves 
m such abominable kennels ; there are others whose in- 
temperance prevents their obtaining better homes; there 
are many whose love of dirt leads them to prefer these 
tumble-down hovels. But an industrious man who can 
earn tolerably good wages need not imprison himself 
there; it is very false economy for him to do so; the 
cheap and nasty house is dear at any price. When a 
good commodious house in a healthy part of the town, 
or in the suburbs, is to be let, it is generally advertised 
m terms which set forth all its advantages, and in which 
the truth, and even a good deal more than the truth, is 
told respecting it. I should like to see an advertisement 
which should deal faithfully with another class of habita- 
tions. It would be to the following effect :--« To be let, 
immediately, a house, situated in the most insalubrious 
locality within a circuit of fifty miles; this most eligible 
dwellmg forms a part of a court, exactly two yards and 
a half wide ; it is so well sheltered that neither light nor 
air can reach it; it is destitute of all the conveniences 
and decencies of life; in its construction the utmost care 
has been taken to render it in all respects as injurious 



132 TUBES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

to health as | The house is largely stocked with 

us kinds of vermin, and the neighborhood Is 
bra ted f smells and stagnant gutters. The 

landlord is prepared to prove that the premises have not 
been cleaned for the last eighteen years ; the last tenant 
buried four of his children in the space of six months, 
from which it will be seen that it is a highly desii 

1 'lice for a man with a large and burdensome family. 
Amongst the advantages which the above premises com- 
mand, it may be stated that there are nine gin-shops 
within fifty yards of the door, three pawn-brokers on the 
opposite side of the street, and a coffin maker's estab- 
lishment just round the corner. The society also is very 
select — there being, on an average, two man-fights 
five woman-fights every week, with other agreeable en- 
tertainments to vary the monotony of existence. X. B. 
— There is no gas-light in the court, and no B 
has been known to venture into it for many months." 
" Penny wise and pound foolish,'" I think, to live in a 
house like that, if you can avoid it. unless ideed you 

icnlarly d of injuring your health, 

shortening your children's lives. 

. extra florin or half-crown a week, where a 
•.is not thrown away, 1 
well and 

:ood 

Of cou 
however heal 

will 
•ly, unhealthy, in all respects miserable 



PENNY WISE AND POUND FOOLISH. 133 

—if not managed aright; but still, the most careful 
internal arrangements will avail little, if the house and 
its situation are bad rand I believe that many a working 
man's wife, who in a decent house would keep things all 
tidy, is so discouraged by the difficulty of keeping a bad 
house in a bad neighborhood decent, that she gives the 
task up in despair. By all means, if possible^ let her 
have a house, and not a den, a stye, to keep clean, 
otherwise, what is saved in rent by taking this beastly 
hovel, will be lost in other ways ; and therefore I would 
respectfully urge upon working men to obtain the very 
best habitations they can afford, since bad houses are 
injurious to health and to morals too. It is very hard 
*o be good anywhere, but it is especially hard to be good 
in a house which by its construction and its situation is 
of necessity dark, dirty, and unwholesome. I do not 
say that if the wretched, drunken, dissolute inhabitants 
of some of our courts and alleys could be transported to 
some district containing well-built, airy, cheerful, healthy 
houses, they would be altogether converted by the 
change, but I do believe that they would be very greatly 
altered for the better— that they would become more 
susceptible of good impressions— that they would be far 
more likely to become virtuous and godly people, more 
likely to listen to the Gospel, and more likely to live the 
Gospel; certainly their bodily health would be improved, 
their lives would be lengthened, their children's morals 
would not be so exposed to corrupting influences ; and, 
altogether, I do most thoroughly believe that good 
dwellings would go very far towards improving the 
character and condition of the people in almost every 



134 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

respect. It is a matter of thankfulness to see that the 
attention of good men is turned to this subject, and that 
efforts are being made to furnish the working people with 
comfortable houses ; but the working people themselves 
must second those efforts, by doing all in their power to 
encourage the building of the right sort of habitations — 
by being prepared to take them, even though they should 
cost a trifle more than the dirty pest-houses, the living 
tombs, of the dark and narrow courts. 

The "penny wise and pound foolish" principle is often 
illustrated by the system on which many people act in 
almost all their purchases. I have often spoken of the 
rage for cheap things, which seems to be the order of the 
day. Under the shelter of this word "cheap," the vilest 
trash, in food, in drink, in clothing, in furniture, in im- 
plements, is sold in enormous quantities. Perhaps there 
is not a more delusive word in our language, for, generally 
speaking, the cheapness of an article is the result of 
deterioration ; in proportion to its cheapness, is its 
nastiness, its worthlessness. What you buy dirt cheap, 
usually is dirt. I have heard of a gentleman who went 
into a great clothing establishment in London, and 
bought himself a suit, at a remarkably low figure. He 
was delighted with his purchase, and next morning sallied 
forth for his office in the city, dressed in his new toggery, 
and pleased to ohserve how well it fitted him, and how 
becoming it was in all respects; but lie bad not proceeded 
far, when first one scam and then another gave way; in 
a few minutes he was in rags 3 and was compelled to take 
refuge in a cab, and be driven back in confusion to his 
.odgings, convinced that he for one had been "penny 



PENNY WISE AND POUND FOOLISH. 135 

wise and pound foolish." In one way or another, I dare 
say we have all of us made a discovery of the folly which 
prompts people to patronise the dirt-cheap system. It 
is always the most expensive in the long run — for a good 
article will always command a good price ; and that which 
is very low in figure, proclaims itself' low in quality as 
well ; and many of the things that are paraded before the 
gaping public as extraordinarily cheap, would really be 
very dear at any price. I often see advertisements 
headed "Great Bargains!" What am I to make of such 
an announcement ? for a bargain may be good or bad. 
Our friend who bought the clothes which fell to tatters 
in the street, had a very great bargain, but a great bad 
one. If the advertisement were headed " good bargains," 
there would be some sense in it ; though even then it 
would remain to be decided whether the good bargain 
was on the side of the customer or of the shopkeeper, and 
I incline to think it is generally in favor of the latter ; 
at all events, in this puffing age, when, of a multitude of 
shopkeepers, every one declares that his is the best and 
cheapest house in the trade, that his stock is unrivaled in 
the world, that he is selling off to make alterations in 
the premises, and that such an opportunity seldom 
presents itself, &c, it may be well to remember our old 
proverb, lest, enticed and tempted by such promises, and 
by the fine appearance which, by various artful dodges, 
is given to every vile piece of trumpery, and especially 
to the vilest, we should discover, when too late, that we 
have been "penny wise and pound foolish." 

I often see this pound folly and penny wisdom in the 
salaries given to servants. It is a point with many 



136 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

people to get a person to do this or that work at as low 
a remuneration as possible, and the consequence often is 
that the work is badly done. Sometimes the salary is so 
small that the poor recipient of it is tempted to act 
dishonestly, and abscond with his master's money, taking 
ten times the amount of his salary at a slap. It is not a 
good system ; it is not profitable ; it is not safe ; it is not 
creditable. Where a man does his work well, I should 
think the surest plan is to encourage him, by dealing 
with him in a generous, and not in a niggardly spirit. 
It may often be in a servant's power to promote or to 
injure his employer's interest, and therefore it is well to 
identify the interests of both as far as practicable. 
Scripture says, "The instruments of a churl are evil;" 
which I would venture to interpret very freely thus: the 
servants of a churl arc not persons to be depended upon ; 
"but the liberal deviseth liberal things, and by liberal 
things shall he stand." Liberal treatment is not thrown 
away upon "the right man in the right place;" it will 
pay best in the long run; it will save a man from 
bunglers, from idlers, and from rascals (a very desirable 
salvation I should think); it will make him quiet and 
easy in his mind, and relieve him of a thousand anxieties 
and fears, if he knows that he has really made it w T orth a 
good man's while to serve him diligently and well. And 
men of the right stamp are not to be picked up any day, 
at any street corner; they are so difficult to find, that it 
is of no small consequence to keep thorn when you have 
found them. Of course there are higher principles than 
that of mere self-interest, which ought to prompt an 
employer to deal liberally with those in his employ; but, 



PENNY WISE AND POUND FOOLISH. 137 

to take it on the lowest ground, it is for his own interest 
to act thus. What he might save in wages by employing 
persons of an inferior mental and moral standing, he will 
lose in other ways ; he will probably lose far more, and 
find, to his sorrow, that, in dealing with clerks, with 
craftsmen, with foremen, with captains and officers of 
ships — with the employed in all departments of business 
— there is such a mistake, and a costly mistake, too, as 
being " penny wise and pound foolish.' ' 

We see this error very frequently and very miserably 
illustrated in the investment of money. By dint of long 
and severe struggling, a man is enabled at last to save 
something. It has cost him much self-denial and much 
care. " Penny wise" he certainly has been — adding by 
little and little to his store ; and now, what is he to do 
with it? A hundred schemes present themselves, all 
very plausible — all promising a safe and large return- 
all demonstrating ten, fifteen, twenty, or thirty per cent, 
as certain. There are snares formed to entrap the 
wasteful, thoughtless, prodigal man ; and to rob him at 
once, before he has accumulated as much as a week's 
wages in hand : there are also snares, more cunningly 
devised, to entrap the industrious and the thrifty ; and, 
consequently multitudes of such persons have had every 
stiver cruelly swept away, and have passed their old age 
in poverty and want, rendered all the more bitter by 
the reflection that their suffering is the result of their 
credulity, in trusting to the flattering tales of scheming 
scoundrels. It is difficult to know what to advise, unless 
we give this one counsel — that in proportion to the return 
that is promised, the scheme is to be suspected. The 



138 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

swindling speculations are always the most brilliantly 
colored — always have a most plausible appearance, and 
hold out the most attractive bait. It is better to leave 
speculation to the men who can afford to lose money ; 
those who have to depend upon a little should try to be 
content with a small but certain return, and should run 
none of the risks which a great per centage usually 
involves. At all events, there are only too many 
sorrowful facts which prove that, after all a man's penny 
lorn in making a little money by honest industry and 
economical habits, he may be the deluded victim of pound 
folly in the choice of an investment for his savings. "All 
is not gold that glitters" in the speculating world; nay, 
I should sayj the more glittering there is, the less gold 
•neral. There is an old saying, to the effect that 
"if you take care of the pence, the pounds will take care 
of themselves." Seldom do we meet with a more foolish 
proverb ; the pounds require even more care than the 
pence, because they are more sought after by the crafty, 
: here arc greater temptations offered for their unsafe 
investment. 

But now I shall suppose the case of a man who has 

fallen into none of those "penny wise and pound fool- 

• which I have described. He lias not been 

tempted by the trifle of money his sons could earn, to re- 

them from Bchool BO early as to spoil the process of 

m. and unfit them for making advancement 

in the world; he has not risked his own health, and that 

of his family, by living in a dark, dirty and unwholesome 

house ; he has not, for the Bake of a low rent, submitted 

to the abominations of a vile dwelling and a vile neigh- 



PENNY WISE AND POUND FOOLISH. 139 

borhood ; lie has not been deluded by the plausible word 
cheap, but wisely regards the Cheap John as the dearest 
of all tradesmen, and suspects that a great bargain is a 
great thief; he has not been so foolish as to adopt the 
niggardly policy with those in his employ, but, with a 
true knowledge of human nature, has secured to himself 
good servants, by paying them well ; nor has he been 
taken in by any of the swindling speculations of the age. 
Whatever he has put his hand to has prospered ; in large 
transactions equally as in small, he has evinced prudence, 
knowledge, sagacity, and success has crowned all his ef- 
forts in life. Penny wise, and pound wise, too, he seems 
to be ; and every one has the highest opinion of his prac- 
tical good sense. Well, after all, he may only be penny 
wise ; he may be to the fullest extent, and in the most 
important sense, pound foolish ; for this proverb refers 
not to money alone. Every man is " penny wise and 
pound foolish" who is wise in the smaller affairs of life, 
and foolish in the greater and the greatest. . If the acqui- 
sition and wise investment of money were the principal 
thing for which a man exists, then such a paragon of suc- 
cess might be regarded as a paragon of wisdom ; but 
whether men will believe it or not, the acquisition and the 
investment of money, however wise and profitable the in- 
vestment be, really is not the main design of our exist- 
ence in this world ; and I think that I can show that 
this model man of business, though penny wise, which I 
am by no means inclined to deny, is pound foolish after 
all, and pound foolish perhaps in several respects. 

For, suppose that in his intense application to business 
he has injured his health, and this is no uncommon case ; 



140 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

there are many who, in their great anxiety to prosper in 
the world, undermine their constitution, sow the seeds of 
fatal . and bring themselves to a premature grave. 

To act thus is, I think, to show oneself "penny wise and 
pound foolish." Such a man is penny wise, for he makes 
money; but he is certainly pound foolish, inasmuch as lie 
incapacitates himself for the enjoyment of the fortune 
which he is so intent upon realising. Or, suppose that a 
man's thoughts are so engrossed by his money-making 
schemes, that he has neither time nor inclination to think 
of anything else. He sacrifices all mental improvement, 
all acquisition of knowledge, all intellectual pleasures to 
his one great object — that of becoming a rich man. I 
should think that in that case also he must be pronounced 
"penny wise and pound foolish;" he is preferring the 
less to the greater ; lie may wax very wealthy, but if he 
continues an ignorant creature, insensible to all refined 
enjoyments, deliberately devoting himself to the business 
of a miser, until he can find pleasure in nothing else, he 
is just making a fool of himself, with all his apparent 
shrewdness. He is penny wise, but there is no coin that 
can express the magnitude of his folly. If, moreover, 
this his greediness of gain has hardened his heart, and 
made him indifferent to all but himself, a close-fisted, hard- 
bargain-driving man. near, niggardly, and mean, so that 
he is feare I by his dependents, hated by his equals, de- 
spised by his superiors, so that nobody has any reason to 
him. to respect him, to care whether he lives or dies, 
— for lie lias made no sorrowful heart glad, relieved no 
wretchedness, done no good in the world, — then I think 
that his penny wisdom has ripened into pound folly. 



PENNY WISE AND POUND FOOLISH. 141 

Still more is this the case if his thirst for gain has pre- 
vailed over his moral principles, and led him into crooked 
and dishonest paths, and general worship of the devil, 
and if, in taking such mighty care of his secular interest, 
he has altogether neglected his soul. 

I read in Scripture this description of a man " penny 
wise and pound foolish" : — " The ground of a certain rich 
man brought forth plentifully. And he thought within 
himself, saying, What shall I do, because I have no room 
where to bestow my fruits ? And he said, This will I 
do, I will pull down my barns, and build greater, and 
there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods. And I 
will say to my soul, Soul, thou hast much goods laid up 
for many years, take thine ease, eat, drink, and be 
merry. And God said unto him, Thou fool, this night 
shall thy soul be required of thee, and then whose shall 
those things be which thou hast provided ? So is he 
that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich to- 
ward God." There are many such men, men careful, 
prudent, saving, with regard to the present life, whose 
selfishness culminates at last, and reaches its climax in 
utter neglect of themselves. It is curious to think that 
a man will exercise the utmost anxiety to have all his 
property carefully handed over to his relatives and 
friends ; nothing is omitted, nothing left to take its 
chance ; from his landed estate, worth one hundred thou- 
sand pounds, to his old boots not worth ninepence, every 
item of his property is willed this way or that ; but as 
to his soul's future welfare, and what is to become of 
that, he feels not the slightest concern. This, I submit, 
is the very extreme form of the " penny wise and pound 



142 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

foolish" principle, especially if the man is not an infidel, 
but a person who does believe in a judgment to come. 

I have heard of a millionaire who, on his death bed, 
was entreated by a friend to leave .- >me money to build 
two or three churches for the benefit of the town in 
which he had risen from the very sweepings. "Church- 
es I" exclaimed the expiring old wretch. "Build church- 
es ! Why, I have several pews already that are not 
let." The last days of misers are indeed fearfully illus- 
trative of our motto, "Penny wise and pound foolish." 
In fact, however shrewd, however keen, however success- 
ful a man may be in life, and however intellectual in his 
tastes and pursuits, however extensively and accurately 
informed he may be. in any case indifference to religion 
proves him to be but "penny wise and pound foolish." 
Another of the sayings of Him wbo spake as never man 
had spoken before, or has spoken since, will set this 
matter in a clear light at once : " "What shall it profit a 
man, if he should gain the whole world, and lose his 

i soul?" To argue upon this question would be ab- 

I ; all, without a moment's hesitation, pronounce that 
the only answer that can be given to it is this, that such 

i, at such a cost, would be a dead and unutterable 
a shocking bad bargain for any man, a most fla- 
grant case of "penny wise and pound foolish." Yes, 
that's what every body says — every body, excepting 

laps an infidel, whose infidelity goes so far as to deny 

the immortality, perhaps to deny even the existence, of 

• ill. All Inn he at once exclaim, This question ad- 

3 of but one answer — to ^;\\n the world, and lose (lie 
soul, would be to the uttermost unprofitable. I only 



PENNY WISE AND POUND FOOLISH. 143 

wish that all men acted in accordance to this conviction, 
but what do we see ? Why, this ; that, not for so tempt- 
ing a bribe as the whole world, but for some poor infini- 
tesimal fraction of the- world, men exchange their souls. 
One runs the risk of losing his soul, rather than not 
gratify his lust ; another runs the risk of losing his soul, 
rather than abstain from excess in strong drink; and 
another says, Let me have money, and my soul may take 
its chance. When I consider for what a paltry amount 
of gratification some men lose their souls, I cannot call 
them even penny wise. I do not know of any coin, in 
any currency, small enough, worthless enough, to be the 
representative of their wisdom ; nor did ever a piece of 
gold come from any mint large enough to express their 
folly. Not penny wise and pound foolish, not even far- 
thing wise, but more than a thousand pound foolish, are 
such men. The devil is very shabby in the bargains 
which he makes with these poor fools; he would not 
give Judas Iscariot more than thirty pieces of silver for 
his soul, and he has bought many a man for less. If he 
gave them a pretty large share of the world, and of 
worldly enjoyment ; if he gave them riches, and health 
to enjoy them ; pleasures, and a physical constitu- 
tion to resist their debilitating effects : even then it 
would be a miserably losing game, to jeopardise the soul 
for one moment for such a consideration ; but poverty, 
and ill-health, and weakness, and shame, and shortness 
of days are more generally the wages of sin even in this 
world ; the fact is, it is not a question of gaining the 
world and losing your soul — you won't gain it. Christ 
asks, What shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole 



144 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

world? but lie knew full well that the whole world can- 
not be gained, that the sinner gains but a poor little 
morsel of it with all his striving ; and for this little mor- 
sel of the world, what a fool a man must be to imperil 
his future, to run the risk of eternal and irreparable loss ! 
And it is not the miser alone who is doing this, but 
every man who prefers the pleasures of sin, of any kind 
of sin, to a sober, righteous, and godly life. 

And now will you each ask yourselves, Am I in any 
respect "penny wise and pound foolish?" There are 
many other ways of fulfilling this character besides those 
which I have pointed out ; but what I have mentioned 
are common specimens, common illustrations of the prin- 
ciple. If we are parents, let us not be "penny wise and 
pound foolish" in the treatment of our children, and their 
training for life. If we are poor, still let us not be 
"penny wise and pound foolish" in dwelling in houses 
unfit for human habitation, if we can possibly dwell in 
better. In all our marketings and purchases let us be on 
our guard, lest the delusion of apparent and so-called 
cheapness betray us into a "penny wise and pound fool- 
Mi" outlay of money. If we are employers, let us not 
illustrate this treacherous principle in our treatment of 
those whom we engage to work for us. If we have been 
enabled to Bave anything by our toil, let us be careful, 
• | ony wise and pound foolish" investments rob us 
iur hard-earned treasure. Above all, may we shun 
thai penny wisdom and pound folly, thai minimum of wis- 
dom and maximum of folly, which prefers sin to holiness, 
time to eternity, earth to heaven, and the body to the 
soul. 



CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS. 145 



LECTURE VIII. 

CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS. 

I DO not know to whom we are indebted for the say- 
ing, " Cleanliness is next to godliness." I have heard 
its origin ascribed to John Wesley. It is a maxim wor- 
thy of the sagacious founder of Methodism. I have no 
doubt that, in his continual intercourse with the people. 
he found that, next to the devil, dirt was about the most 
formidable enemy to his great reformatory work. Drink 
and dirt are the devil's foremen; he pays them liberally; 
their wages are thousands of bodies and souls — men, wo- 
men, and children ; and they do their master's work dili- 
gently, faithfully, and effectively. They are at it night 
and day — these two demons of the pit ; drink working 
in the beer-house and the gin-palace, dirt working in 
every narrow street, every dark alley, every ill-ventilated 
court, every badly-built house, every close, unwholesome 
workshop, every damp cellar, every open drain, every 
crowded graveyard. Ministers of religion, schoolmasters, 
town missionaries, and Scripture readers are, with more 
or less diligence and earnestness, trying to overthrow the 
devil's kingdom ; but the devil points to his two foremen 
— drink and dirt — and laughs and snaps his fingers at all 
10 



146 LECTURES FQK THE PEOPLE. 

our efforts. I believe that the devil hates the Gospel and 
dreads the Gospel; I believe that he also hates and dre 
soap and water. He is no great admirer of churches ; 
as little docs he admire public baths and wash-houses. 
He knows that "cleanliness is next to godliness," and 
that a plentiful supply and application of soap and water 
would do very much towards the overthrow of his dark 
and horrible dominion in the world. Last Sunday we 
had a look at the operations of one of the devil's foremen 
drink ; this afternoon I shall take a peep at that de- 
partment of the devil's work of which dirt is the "gaffer" 
[master]. And here, at the outset, let me remark, that 
if you think it is too high praise to bestow upon cleanliness 
to say that it is next to godliness, you must remember 
that the word cleanliness has a moral, as well as a phys- 
ical signification. This moral sense of cleanliness often 
comes out in our commonest forms of speech ; as, for ex- 
ample, when we say that "our hands are clean," mean- 
ing that we are innocent of this or that sin ; and when we 
say that such or such an act is a "dirty trick;" and when 
we apply the term "foul-mouthed" to a man who is in 
the habit of swearing and uttering obscene language. In 
all such cases, and in many more, we recognise the moral, 
and not merely physical, Bense of cleanliness. In like 
manner the Scriptures often speak of sua as " unclean- 
- ;" of being freed from sin, as being "washed;" the 
mercy of God, as communicated through the merit and 
suffering of Christ, is as " a fountain opened for sin and 
and for unclcanness;" all virtue is spoken of as "purity;" 
and thus do the Scriptures continually indicate the moral 
meaning of this word "cleanliness." Take the word, 



CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS. 147 

then, in this its widest and highest signification ; remem- 
ber that it is a figurative expression, denoting all moral 
purity ; and I think you cannot but admit that " godli- 
ness and cleanliness" are very closely allied. Now I 
shall speak of "cleanliness" in both its physical and its 
moral signification. I shaU advert to the former, because 
I am deeply impressed with its importance ; but I shall 
" also insist upon the latter; for, without moral cleanliness, 
the most scrupulous avoidance of all merely physical de- 
filement is comparatively worthless. Let us have clean 
bodies, clean clothes, clean habitations, by all means; but 
let us not be satisfied with these; let us still aim higher, 
and strive for cleanliness of mind and heart ! 

Now, as to the importance of physical cleanliness, here 
is a rather startling fact to begin with. In England 
alone the average annual number of deaths from disease 
is about 300,000, while the number of deaths from mere 
physical decay, by the progress of time, is only 35,000: 
that is to say, only about one person in ten dies through 
causes strictly natural, and absolutely unavoidable. Here 
are 300,000 deaths which, in some way or another, have 
been hastened by disease ; 60,000 of them may be set 
down to the cause of intemperance, but there are still 
240,000 to be reckoned for. You might of course say 
that so many die of consumption— so many of dysentery 
—so many of fever— so many of small-pox— so many of 
cholera ; but whence arise the consumption, the dysentery, 
the fever, the small-pox, the cholera, and other diseases? 
Is there not a cause ? Most certainly there is, and the 
chief cause is, beyond all question, dirt ; dirty skins, 
dirty clothes, dirty houses, dirty gutters, and a dirty at- 



148 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

rnosphere. " The days of our age are threescore years 
and ten," says the Psalmist; perhaps that was the ave- 
duration of life in his time, but what is it now? A 
few years ago it was shown that the average length 
of life in Liverpool was only IT years, and the life of 
the operative classes in Liverpool was no more than 15 
years. The study of the bills of mortality shows that 
such an appalling loss of life is mainly owing to the ab- 
sence of cleanliness, to the presence of dirt. 

An eminent physician, Dr. Guy, sa} r s — " Deficient 
drainage, if not the parent, is certainly the nurse, of fe- 
ver. My own opinion is, that fever is a contagious dis- 
ease, spreading from person to person just as small-pox 
or scarlet fever does, and, like those diseases, haunting 
over-crowded or ill-drained districts, and all places 
where, from any cause whatever, the air is foul, and 
filled with animal and vegetable exhalations. It loves 
the banks of rivers, the borders of marshes, the edges of 
stagnant pools. It makes itself a home in the neighbor- 
hood of cess-pools and badly constructed drains, and 
takes special delight in the incense of gully-holes. It 
has a perfect horror of fresh air, soap, and whitewash; 
and when hft to itself will linger for years amid scenes 
of filth and corruption, and hold in its deadly embrace 
all human beings who have the same depraved taste, or 
arc bo unfortunate as to be thrown into its company." 
in a very few minutes yen may walk from St. Giles's to 
St. George's, Bloomsbury, in the metropolis. In doing 
so, you may not be aware that you have almost "passed 
from life unto death ;" but such is the fact, for in the 
former district, which is very crowded and very dirty, 



CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS. 149 

(though, so far as I have inspected it, nothing like so 
filthy as many parts of Liverpool,) the poor people in 
those narrow courts and dark cellars live only 17 years; 
while in the latter district, which is open and well-built' 
with squares, large houses, good drainage, the inhabi- 
tants live on an average to the age of 40. What differ- 
ence does it make whether a man lives in St. Giles's or 
St. George's ? Only this— that in the latter region he 
will probably live 23 years longer. I have not at hand 
the statistics of Liverpool mortality, but I have no doubt 
that very similar differences exist here ; that life in one 
district is much more valuable than in another. The 
effects of crowding human habitations into a small space 
are most deplorable; give men 200 square yards each to 
turn themselves in, and only 1 in 49 will die in the 
course of a year; give them only 100 square yards, and 
1 in 40 will die; give them no more than 30 square 
yards, and 1 in 36 will be cut off. Cholera, which is so 
often regarded as a very mysterious visitation, is not by 
any means^ mysterious ; I do not think that it is a mark 
of God's displeasure against the endowment of Maynooth 
and Sunday trading; it is rather the expression of his 
utter disapproval of our over-crowded habitations and 
our bad sewerage. If cholera visit us, it is because we 
invite it to come. Did you ever go past the George's 
basm at low water ? Your nose, if you have a nose, will 
inform you that in that region there is one of Liverpool's 
invitations to the cholera; but every bad drain, every 
poisonous cesspool, every stagnant gutter, every narrow 
court and filthy alley unites in the request— cordially 
invites the cholera, and typhus fever, and other devils, 



150 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

to come and feast and gorge themselves upon the work- 
ing people of Liverpool ! 

Such filth is not only injurious to health, it is also de- 
trimental to morals ; dirt and vice are generally found 
together. There may be, there often is, vice where phy- 
sical cleanliness is observed, but in almost every case 
there is vice where physical cleanliness is neglected. A 
writer in the Edinburgh Review says — " An overflowing 
abundance of evidence, confirmed by the experience of 
every dweller in large towns, shows that the unclean dis- 
tricts, which are the centres of disease, are at the same 
time the great nurseries and fortresses of crime; in these 
eases the mind suffers with the body." And another 
writer observes, "that a filthy, noxious, squalid dwelling, 
rendered still more wretched by its noxious site, in which 
none of the decencies of life can be observed, contributes 
to make its unfortunate inmates selfish, sensual, and re- 
gardless of each other's feelings; the constant indulgence 
of such passions renders them reckless and brutal ; and 
the transition is natural to propensities and habits in- 
compatible with a respect for the property of others, or 
for the laws. Whether we can trace, in a philosophical 
manner, the connection which exists between dirt and 
vice or not, the fact is unquestionable. It would be vain 
and foolish to hope that any measures of sanitary re- 
form would extirpate crime, but certainly the physical 
purification of our great cities would greatly abate the 
moral pollution ! If men learned to respect their bodies, 
woul 1 be all the more inclined to think of the puri- 
fication of their souls." 

1 >irtj moreover, is exceedingly costly. I have adapted 



CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS. 151 

a London calculation to the population of Liverpool, and 
find that at least 1500 deaths, and 40,000 cases of illness, 
are traceable to causes removable by sanitary reform — - 
1500 deaths and 40,000 cases of illness to set down to 
the account of dirt, year by year ! The great majority 
of these deaths and illnesses occur among the working 
people, who have to inhabit the unhealthy parts of the 
town. Of those deaths, a considerable number are cases 
of working men, husbands and fathers, whose untimely 
removal leaves widows and children to struggle with 
penury, or to fall upon the parish. 40,000 cases of 
illness ! let us set them down at an average of a 
fortnight's duration each, and suppose that 80,000 of 
them befall the working people, that 10,000 of them are 
the lot of working men; 10,000 men out of work for a 
fortnight, and put to extra charges on account of illness ; 
I think it will be a matter of at least $150,000, the 
annual bill which dirt brings in against the working 
people of Liverpool ! Then take into account, also, the 
pain and sorrow caused by this vast amount of preventible 
disease and death; the anguish endured in these 40,000 
cases of illness ; the tears shed by those who are desolated 
and bereaved by those ' 1500 deaths, over every one of 
which some one mourns, in every one of which some one 
has lost an object of affection. Homes are broken up ; 
hearts are wrung with anguish ; children are left destitute ; 
all through the prevalence of dirt. It is really a very 
serious matter, and one that ought to be well considered, 
and remedied if possible. 

But what is to be done ? In the first place, I would 
say, let every man turn sanitary reformer on his own 



152 LECTURES TOR THE PEOPLE. 

account, if sanitary reform be in his case needful. 
Health, of great importance to every man, is all-import- 
ant to a working man ; it has been well remarked, that 
k - ]•.'■:! ith is his only wealth, his capital, his stock in trade; 
when disease attacks him, the very source of his subsist- 
ence is dried up." He must earn his daily bread by daily 
toil, and cannot do his work by deputy, nor postpone the 
doing of it until his health be re-established ; day by day 
the expense of sickness is added to the loss of income, 
and too often, when he recovers, he finds his place 
occupied by another ; and the first hours, we may say 
the first days, and perhaps weeks, of his convalescence, 
are spent in an anxious and often fruitless search after 
employment. Health is only enjoyment to the rich — it 
is existence to the poor ; and therefore everything that a 
working man can do to secure this, he ought to do. To 
secure it, the first great requisites are soap and water; a 
clean skin is absolutely essential to sound and vigorous 
health; whatever it costs the town, water ought to be 
liberally supplied to every working man's house, so that 
every morning before he goes to his work, and every 
night when he cornea home, he may have a thorough good 
wash. This i< jusl as important as a good breakfast, 
and far more important than a supper. The working 
man, v>lm in his work perspires so freely, and comes in 
contaol with so much dirt, — Ik 1 of all men ought to have 
plenty of fresh water supplied to him. The corporation 
have dune good service in providing public baths and 
wa.^h-houscs ; this is one of the best things they have 
ever done: a mutter of far greater practical utility 
than the building of St. George's Hall. I am even 



CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS. 153 

inclined to think that the corporation baths are a great 
deal more useful than some of the corporation churches ; 
at all events, if we put the churches first and the baths 
second, we have an illustration of our motto, " Cleanliness 
is next to Godliness." I find that sometimes no fewer 
than 25,000 persons frequent these baths in a single 
week, and spend $2500 in the luxury of a good physical 
purification. This is a most gratifying fact; it is sure to 
tell upon the public health, the public morals, and the 
public happiness. If a working man has twopence to 
spare on a Saturday night, the best public-house he can go 
to is situated in Cornwallis street ; or if he lives in the 
north end, he will find one in Paul street. I wish there 
were ever so many more, one at least in every ward in 
the borough ; and I believe there will be some day, when 
the public mind is fully alive to the fact, that " cleanliness 
is next to godliness," and that the water-shop is as much 
better than the gin-shop, as health is better than disease, 
plenty better than poverty, and life better than death. 

It is of the utmost importance that there should be the 
strictest cleanliness in the house. This is the woman's 
department ; and in this every true-hearted woman will 
take a pleasure and a pride — not in finery, which is 
almost always filthy, but in perfect cleanliness. She will 
not spend her time in gossip ; she will find enough to do 
at home, rubbing and scrubbing, and keeping all things 
straight and tidy ; so that when her good mam comes 
home to dinner, he may not find the house all in a mess, 
everything out of its place, everything behindhand, 
everything dusty and filthy, a dirty hearth, a dirty floor, 
a dirty table without a table cloth, dirty plates and dirty 



154 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

forks, and a dinner so spoiled that it is not fit to eat. 
Such disorder is enough to drive a man to the public- 
house, and does drive thousands thither. No ; keep the 
house clean ; don't spare the use of besom, mop, and 
broom; throw the windows open; it's little enough air 
will circulate through some houses, though it should be 
blowing a gale of wind down at the pier-head. In some 
papers which appeared a few years ago in the " Exami- 
ner" on this topic, "How to make home unhealthy," we 
find the following advice, which I would have you adopt, 
if you wish to shorten your lives : " Fasten a strong 
board against the fire-place of your bed-room, so as to 
prevent the foul air escaping in the night ; you will, of 
course, have no hole through the wall into the chimney, 
and no sane man in the night season would have a door 
or window open ; use no perforated zinc in paneling, 
especially avoid it in small bed-rooms, so you will get a 

room full of bad air 

Suffocating machines arc made by every upholsterer; 
attach one to your bed; it is an apparatus of poles, rings, 
:n ,d curtains; by drawing your curtains around you, 
before you sleep, you insure to yourself a condensed 
bodv of foul air over your person; this poison vapor-bath 
you will find losI efficient when it is made of very 

rial." In this satirical manner does the 
"Examiner" rightly speak of the foolish and injurious 
practices which are unhappily so common; in fact, the 

d i almost everything in our 
, bring disease and 

.1. nth i 

But w fca1 fa I - of the working man's dwelling? 



CLEANLINESS IS ITEXT TO GODLINESS. 155 

1 am afraid that, with every precaution, there will, there 
must, be dirt and disease, unless a better class of houses, 
better situated, be provided for the people. There cer- 
tainly has been some improvement effected of late years. 
Many of those cellars, which are no better than prepara- 
tory graves (they cannot even be called, in the language 
of the Necropolis, "tidy graves"), have been shut up— 
are at all events no longer used as human habitations ; it 
was quite right to put a stop to such a nuisance. Perhaps 
a man may exclaim, This is an encroachment on personal 
freedom ; have I not a right to live where I please ? What 
is it to you ? It is a great deal to me ; you have no 
right to live in such a manner as to poison me with the 
filth that accumulates in your horrid den. The owners 
of such property have no right, no moral right, to let it 
for such purposes ; to let a cellar or a house that is 
unhealthy, is as great a crime as to sell putrid meat. 
The result of closing our wretched cellars soon showed 
itself. I have not recent data at hand ; but perhaps the 
statistics of 1849 are as valuable as any others, since in 
that year the cholera accepted our invitation, and came 
to see us. ISTear the end of that year, 4700 cellars had 
been cleared of 20,000 people ; and one of the cellar 
districts, which in a previous epidemic had lost 500 
inhabitants, lost only 94 by the cholera of '49. 

But these dark, narrow courts of ours, these filthy 
little streets, what is to be done with them? If the 
inhabitants could only get some better places of residence, 
the sooner one-half of Liverpool is pulled down and 
rebuilt, the better. The fire of London was the greatest 
sanitary reformer that ever visited the metropolis ; and 



156 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

if by no other means vast districts can be cleared of their 
filth, and the haunts of fever and cholera be removed, a 
pretty sharp conflagration would not in the long run be 
a thing to be deplored. I submit that it is sinful to build 
houses which common sense proves cannot but be the 
abodes of filth. If a man is going to build houses at all, 
he is morally bound to deliver them to the tenant in a 
sanitary state; you would execrate him if he let the 
house in such a condition that it was liable to fall in a 
gale of wind, and bury its wretched inmates in its 
ruins ; it seems to me as execrable to let the house in 
such a state that, in consequence of want of sewerage, 
and fresh water, and fresh air, the tenant is likely to be 
poisoned. But this builder and owner of jerry houses 
says : " I cannot afford to build healthy houses." "Well, 
then, in the name of all that's honest and humane, don't 
build at all. If a butcher or a fishmonger says, " I cannot 
afford to sell wholesome beef or wholesome mackerel," I 
say. Well, then, shut up, and take to some other trade; 
if you cannot feed the people, that's no reason why you 
should poison them; and if you, jerry builder as you are, 
cannot shelter the people wholesomely, don't attempt to 
shelter them at all; if you cannot afford to drain the 
land, and to civet no more houses upon it than the sun 
light and fresh air can visit freely, have nothing to do 
with the business; Leave it to others, who are at once 
able and willing to build houses in which decency may be 
observed, and in which health is possible. 

In this mattei-, however, as 1 have often said, the peo- 
ple must depend upon themselves, and by dint of econo- 
my try to command better habitations. There are thou- 



CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS. 157 

sands of working men who can, if they will, afford to 
live in better house's than they now occupy; what they 
needlessly spend in drink, and other extravagances, 
would pay the difference between the rent of a pig-sty 
and the rent of a comfortable, airy, cheerful, and salu- 
brious house. It's worth while making almost any sa- 
crifice to secure this ; and I do hope that I shall live to 
see the day when whole streets of houses shall be tenant- 
less ; when courts and alleys by the score shall be swept 
away, with all the vermin and the filth and the disease 
which now infest them ; when every man who builds a 
house and lets it to another shall be obliged to build a 
healthy house ; when, in laying out a spot of ground, 
the speculator shall be compelled to limit his cupidity by 
the requirements of the public health ; and when the 
town, through its local parliament, shall secure to itself 
broad open spaces, in its now over- crowded districts ; 
squares, with refreshing fountains, in the heart of Liver- 
pool ; and its suburbs, as close to it as possible, wide 
pleasure grounds accessible to all ; and in the benefits, 
physical, intellectual, and moral, arising from such a re- 
formation, we shall see it triumphantly proved that 
"cleanliness is next to godliness." 

But I have said that cleanliness is a word which bears 
a moral, as well as a physical signification ; and it is its 
moral signification chiefly that brings cleanliness up to 
its honorable proximity to godliness. One can scarcely 
walk far in the streets without perceiving that there are 
not only many dirty faces, but also many dirty tongues ; 
how many there are whose " mouths are full of cursing 
and bitterness, and under whose lips is the poison of 



158 LECTURES FUR THE PEOPLE. 

asps." Dirt meets the eye, dirt meets the nose, and the 
foulest dirt meets the ear. It is bad enough when 
a violent provocation calls forth a burst of angry pro- 
fanity, but infinitely worse when blasphemy and filth are 
uttered in cold blood, and constitute the ordinary forms 
of speech. To other sins a man may be incited by temp- 
tation, but I do not see what can tempt a man to garnish 
his speech with the offal and filth of language ; yet it is 
very common, and common among men, young men, who 
pride themselves on being neat, on being well-dressed, 
who would be ashamed of a dirty face, who brush their 
hats and their coats, and are particular even about the 
cleanliness of their boots ; they take a pride in being 
nice in their personal appearance — an equal pride in be- 
ing as nasty as possible in their speech; thus illustrating 
Swift's rather severe remark — "A nice man is a man of 
nasty ideas." My friends, will you set yourselves reso- 
lutely against this abomination? You know better than 
I how prevalent it is, and what a dirty tone conversation 
often assumes when young men get together, in their 
workshops and in their social gathering. "When Sir 
Christopher AVren was building St. Paul's, he made it a 
rule that every man guilty of profane language should 
be instantly dismissed by the clerk of the works. I do 
not appeal to employers in this matter, but to the men 
themselves ; you know that such language is utterly dc- 
ble, and I do not speak merely of profane expres- 
sions, but of dirty expressions, which arc still more com- 
mon. Do you wish to be regarded not as fools, but as 
men of common scn.-e ? — then give them up. Do you wish 
to be considered not blackguards, but gentlemen? — then 



CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS. 159 

give them up. Do you wish to have credit, not for a 
vicious, but for a highly moral tone of feeling ? — then 
give them up, and discourage such language in every 
possible way ; don't on any occasion allow it to be ad- 
dressed to you ; consider yourself insulted when any 
foul-mouthed fool speaks to you in this the devil's lan- 
guage. If you have any right moral sense, to say no- 
thing of religious principle, such language will be offen- 
sive and disgusting ; set a good example yourselves ; let 
the words of your lips be pure words, and advocate 
among your companions the total abolition of all nasty 
speech ; try to purify the circles in which you move. 
The faculty of speech is one of the noblest you possess ; 
consider who gave it to you, and for what purpose it 
was given, and never prostitute it by making it the chan- 
nel of filthy communication. For this, as for all other 
gifts, we shall be held, and most righteously shall we be 
held, responsible. The Great Teacher says that "for 
every idle word that men shall speak," much more for 
every blasphemous and every obscene word, " they shall 
give account in the day of judgment." Young men, 
it's all right that you should be cleanly in your person, 
and neat in your dress, but what am I to call you if 
with all this you are beastly in your talk ? I must call 
you a low hypocrite, a " whited sepulchre ;" you assume 
the appearance of a gentleman, but it is only to hide a 
blackguard. Remember, the " cleanliness that is next 
to godliness" involves cleanliness of speech. 

Closely allied to this, is cleanliness in songs and in 
books. Here again, as in speech, there is much dirt ; and 
a dirty song or a dirty book is about the very dirtiest of 



160 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

all tilings, yet they are in great request ; obscene songs 
abound, and are sung with great applause in the free con- 
cert rooms, and in bar-parlor gatherings. Yet it is a most 
cheering fact, that, for many years past, the Saturday 
evening concerts in this hall, which concerts have never 
been defiled by a single dirty song, have been supported 
by many thousands of the people. I take this as a proof 
that the great body of the working men infinitely prefer 
purity to impurity, after all, in their entertainments. 
But still there is dirty literature, vile and debasing be- 
yond all description ; there are books which are bought 
and sold upon the sly; which people are ashamed to pur- 
chase openly, but not ashamed to devour in secret. 
Books, with pictures all in keeping with their contents, 
every page of which is intended to excite the lowest pas- 
sions to their utmost intensity, and utterly to corrupt and 
destroy all moral principles, and all regard for decency. 
Young men, some of you have read such books ; some of 
you possess them at this very hour; you keep them locked 
up in your trunk, and you peruse them, when you can do 
so without fear of interruption. You know that what I 
say is true, and you know that those books have defiled 
your imagination, and made your heart mosi dreadfully 
impure. L ask you to commit such books and pictures to 
the flames, no matter what they have cost you: what you 
gave for them in money, is nothing to what they have 
taken from you in moral-: burn them forthwith, and 
would that you could only burn the thought of them out 
our mind, and destroy all those images of obscenity 
and lust which they have produced, and left indelibly 
stamped upon your memory. My friend, I give you fair 



CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS. 161 

warning. I will be plain and faithful with you, those 
books are damning your soul ; they are the literature of 
hell ; they have Satan for their author, and Satan's an- 
gels for their publishers. To put it on no higher footing, 
are you not ashamed ? Do you not feel utterly degraded 
when you purchase and read a book by stealth ? feeling 
that it is not fit to be seen ! Do you not acknowledge by 
this very fact that it is not fit to be read ? No more dirty 
songs, dirty books, dirty pictures, if you wish to have a 
reputation for cleanliness ! 

There is a sin to which, more frequently aud more 
properly than any other, the word uncleanness is applied. 
It is the indulgence of carnal lust ; a sin upon which God 
has set the mark of his utter abhorrence more plainly than 
any other : a sin which involves an incalculable amount 
of misery — which destroys a man's health, impairs his 
understanding, robs him of all cheerfulness, hardens his 
heart, deadens his moral sense, shortens his life, and kills 
his soul. And yet it is a sin which, notwithstanding all 
this solemn warning, is fearfully prevalent in all our large 
towns, and in fact through the length and breadth of the 
land; and it is even gloried in. You will find more men 
prepared to boast of their uncleanness, than men who 
will assert their perfect freedom from such defilement. 
Ashamed of this sin ! No ; but you will find men who 
would be ashamed to say that they were guiltless. It is 
a subject on which it is difficult to speak without offend- 
ing against delicacy; when we have to speak of dirty 
things, it is difficult to avoid dirty terms, if we are to 
speak faithfully. But at the risk of offending your good 
taste, I shall state one fact, in the language in which I 
11 



LECTUEES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

by a superintendent of police. There was 
- in a town in the north of England a public house, 
of which the superintendent says—" At this place there 
was a number of boys, varying from 16 to 18 years of 
mbled after they left the factories, and also young 
girls of corresponding ages. They were in the habit, 
twelve of them, of putting clown each a penny piece, and 
then throwing dice in a basin, and the one who threw the 
highest number was the winner of the prize— and that 
prize was that he could select any one of those girls, and 
take her up stairs for prostitution." Now I am informed, 
on most indisputable authority, that precisely the same 
form of gambling goes on in this town ; and that there are 
beer-houses, that there is at least one, in which a similar 
raffle is held every Saturday evening ! I mention this, be- 
je I think it right that attention should be called to such 
shocking impurities ; because it is necessary that all men, 
dcsirous° of doing good, should know something of the 
with which they have to contend. There are other 
facts far worse than this, which I cannot bring myself to 
ribe; and perhaps what has been said is enough to 
,,- that there is more dirt in Liverpool than some per- 
sons arc aware of, and that there is a great need of ac- 
tive effort in the way of moral, as well as sanitary reform. 
13ut whence docs all this uncleanness arise? Its 
.sour i human heart; it is deeply and strongly 

rooted in our moral nature; for, as our Saviour says, 
"Out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adul- 
thefts, false witness blasphemies, 
and these are the things that defile a man." And if 
but be purified, then there would be 



CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS. 163 

purity of feeling, purity of speech, purity of conduct ; 
then there would be no more filthy communication out 
of our mouth; then alt obscene and dirty books, pictures, 
songs would be discarded as utterly detestable ; and un- 
ci eanness in every form would be shrunk from with dis- 
gust. So, if the heart were clean, would not cleanliness 
come very near to godliness ? Now I can perhaps ex- 
pose, and show up, and denounce what is dirty ; I can 
demonstrate such a feeling, such an expression, such a 
practice to be unclean ; I can expostulate and I can ad- 
vise ; but when all is clone, I find that I cannot cleanse 
my own heart, much less yours. But I know who can 
do this for you and for me. I have also His word ; " A 
new heart will I give you, and a new spirit will I put 
within you." Come now, it's no use pretending to boast 
that we can purify ourselves from sinful feelings, which 
burst out in sinful conduct; let us have none of this 
proud nonsense ; we are all of us poor, miserable, unre- 
formable incurables, without God's help. What I intend 
to do is this— you of course will do as you please— but I 
shall pray to my Father in heaven, « Create in me a 
clean heart, God; and renew a right spirit within me." 
With nothing less than this can I feel satisfied, for no- 
thing less than this will do. 



164 LECTURES FOR TIIE FEOrLE. 



LECTURE IX. 

A FRIEND IX NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED. 

f ES __«A friend in need is a friend indeed;" but 
wWe is lie to be found? Does not Solomon tell us 
that " the poor is despised of his own neighbour, but the 
rich hath many friends?" If a man is in needy 
circumstances, is not this enough to make all his so- 
called friends shy of him? and if he asks a favor, does 
he not soon discover how shallow and valueless this thing 
called friendship almost always is ? I am aware that 
there is too much truth in these complaints; that friend- 
ship, when put to the test, often most bitterly disap- 
points us; that it is seldom to be trusted, m any 
trying emergency; that selfishness soon checks its gene- 
rous impulses, and that the merest trifle sometimes con- 
verts it into enmity and hatred. But still I hope to be 
able to show that "there is a friend that stieketh closer 
thau a broker;" that on his friendship the neediest man 
may rely ; that there is at least one friend in need, and 
therefore at least one friend indeed, who is the friend of 
all . i ,; re say you know whom I mean. There is but 
one person to whom this description applies; there is 
but one who is the Friend of all ; there is but one who is 



A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED. 165 

willing to help all ; there is but one who can afford to 
help all ; there is but one whose friendship is abiding, 
whose friendship triumphs over death and the grave, and 
lives for ever and ever. I presume that all who hear 
me know that friend's name. But lest in this I should 
presume too much, I will with the utmost pleasure men- 
tion his name; his name is Jesus Christ. To speak of 
his friendship, and to contrast it with other friendships, 
is my object on the present occasion. Some of us, I be- 
lieve, I know, have found him to be our friend, and are 
rejoicing and trusting in his friendship. Some of us can 
tell what he has done for us, how he has loved us, taught 
us, guided us, consoled us, supported us. Some of us, 
on the other hand, are probably strangers to him™ 
strangers who, though they have heard his name, and 
been told of his friendship to the world, have never gone 
to him to receive those gifts of friendship which he is 
prepared to bestow. If this lecture should be the means 
of inducing any to seek and to make the acquaintance 
of Christ, to repair to him as their friend in need and 
friend indeed, I shall have great reason to rejoice, I shall 
not have labored in vain. 

Now, when I contemplate the friendships that exist 
amongst men, while I see in them much that is very 
beautiful and very valuable, I also see that those friend- 
ships are often productive of mischief, because they are 
not always conducted and governed by wisdom and pru- 
dence. For example; I have known young men, and 
so have you, who, blessed with friends able and will- 
ing to help them, have relied upon those friends, instead 
of relying upon themselves, for advancement in secular 



166 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

life ; and so their energies have never been called out, 
their talents have never been brought into exercise, and 
they have lived in comparative indolence, and indolence 
almost of necessity leads to dissipation. A wealthy and 
kind-hearted friend, who is ready to supply us with 
money when we are hard-up — a rich father, uncle, aunt, 
or other relative, in whose will we expect not to be for- 
gotten — such a friend is in many cases, perhaps in most 
cases, a source of mischief rather than advantage. De- 
pend upon it, if there is anything in you, there is nothing 
like being obliged to stand on your own legs, to be re- 
duced to your own physical and mental resources ; and 
you are far better off without any friends at all, than 
with such as are prepared to help you whenever you get 
into trouble, for with such friends yon will always be 
netting into trouble, and never learn how to get yourself 
out of it. I can assure you that if my own experience 
is of any value to you, I can say most truly that there 
arc few things for which I am more thankful than for 
this— that, when I commenced the active business of life, 
I commenced it amongst persons not one of whose faces 
I had seen before, not one of whose names I had ever so 
much as heard, amongst utter strangers; and I had not 
a friend in the world who could bear a hand and help 
me in the onsel of the battle of life. Now the friend of 
w hom 1 have to speak is one who does not help us by 
fc h e ai r( sronent of secular advantages. He did 

help men in this way when he lived on the earth, and 
when amongst otl of benevolence, he fed some 

thousands of hungry people with food provided by his 
miraculous power; but when the people whom he had 



A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED. 167 

thus helped hinted that they should like him to give 
them their dinner every day, he declined the proposal ; 
and wisely, and because he was their friend, he left them 
to earn their own dinners by honest industry. Now I 
say Christ does not directly bestow such assistance, but 
do not say that therefore he is not a friend indeed. If 
it were otherwise— if, by some miraculous dispensation, 
it came to pass that all the people who love and obey 
Christ were provided day by day with food, with cloth- 
ing, with lodging, with coals, Christ doing all for them 
— I undertake to say that he would not be their friend, 
but their adversary. To say nothing of the premium on 
hypocrisy which such an arrangement would afford, it 
would make Christians the idlest, most helpless, most 
good-for-nothing people in the world. 

Perhaps you will say, " If Jesus Christ is a friend in 
need, then let him provide me and mine with what is ne- 
cessary for our comfort. He is my friend who helps me ; 
but I cannot understand the friendship which allows a 
man to starve." Now tell me who is the better friend, 
he who encourages you in indolence, by opening his purse 
whenever you apply to him, or he who teaches you such 
principles, and forms your character in such a manner, 
as to make you fully competent to maintain yourself in 
comfort and plenty ? I am sure that if I take a poor 
ragged lad off the street, and give him a little education, 
and put him in the way of earning a living, I am a far 
better friend to him than if I were to say to him, "Now, 
my lad, you come to my house every day, at such an hour, 
and you shall sit down at my table and have your dinner 
with me ; and I'll give you half a crown a week to pay 



168 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

for jour 1 ; and here, go to my tailor's with this 

note, and he will dress you out in a suit of clothes as 
good as my own, or better." You know as well as I that 
that would he the very way to ruin that lad ; I had far 
better leave him alone, to struggle on as well as he can, 
and earn two-pence by holding a gentleman's horse, or 
calling chips about the streets. No, the truest friendship 
is to teach that ragged boy, to give him such a training 
as will make a useful man of him, that he may earn his 
own dinner instead of sharing mine. This is the turn 
which Christ's friendship takes, as it respects the tilings 
of this world. He does not exert his mighty power and 
furnish miraculous supplies, but he addresses us in words 
of wisdom, and if we listen and obey we shall, through 
his blessing, adopt such principles, form such habits, and 
be moulded into such a character, as will, under all ordi- 
nary circumstances, enable us to earn for ourselves enough 
and to spare of all that is necessary to secure our comfort 
in this world. He will teach us to be diligent, he will teach 
us to be temperate, to shun every one of those excesses which 
injure men's health, unfit them for work, and shorten 
their lives; he will, ; action, qualify us tho- 

roughly for all the Btruggles of life. Now, this I call 
real friendship; it is far better than a miraculous dinner 
day by day, and miraculous clothes that should never 
wear out, and a miraculous hous i needing no repairs and 
miraculously rent fr< e, and a miraculous purse inexhausti- 
ble lite the cruse of oil. I wish, therefore, most 

inctly to impress upon you this principle, that however 
a sceptic, with his materialistic notions, may scoff at the 

adship of Christ, because Christ does not directly feed 



A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FEIEND INDEED. 169 

us, because he does not miraculously supply us with tem- 
poral provision, he is, nevertheless, our friend, and proves 
himself all the more friendly by the very fact that he 
does not give us bread and flesh in the morning, and 
bread and flesh in the evening, but gives his friendship 
this far better form of instruction, by attending to which 
we shall in all but very extraordinary cases be enabled to 
escape the evils of penury and want. 

A friend may become a snare, may even prove an 
enemy, by his unwise benevolence, by his injurious be- 
neficence ; a friend may also become exceedingly mis- 
chievous through his example. " Save me from my 
friends !" is an exclamation which many a man has often 
uttered with all earnestness of desire; an exclamation 
which some of you have uttered, I have no doubt. Are 
there not many persons here who would give a good deal 
to be saved from their friends, to be enabled decently and 
without a violent quarrel to part from their associates, 
and to bring many an intimate and old acquaintanceship 
to an end ? The friend whose example taught you to 
swear ; the friend who urged you to accompnny him on 
a Sunday pleasure excursion ; the friend who first took 
you to the public-house, and treated you to whatever you 
chose to ask for ; the friend who initiated you into the 
mysteries of gambling ; the friend who persuaded you to 
accompany him to the play house, and thence to the 
"hop," and thence to the supper room; the friend who 
introduced you into some vicious and profligate circle, 
and led you into the abyss of sensuality. From such a 
friend, would it not have been well to have always been 
saved ? I call him your friend, because I am willing to 



170 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

him credit for something like a friendly disposition ; 
at all events, I will not say that from the first he was 
resolved to injure and destroy you, and that his conduct 
all along was the working out of a deep-laid plot against 
your health, your happiness, your body, and your soul. 
But, whatever his intentions were, he has proved your 
enemy ; his friendship has been poisonous to you ; per- 
haps if he had blown your brains out, or stabbed you to 
the heart, he would have been a better friend to you than 
he has been. 

I do not advise you to quarrel with him now, to accuse 
him of having wilfully led you astray, of having purposely 
wronged you; this, perhaps, was not the case. But 
though you do not quarrel with him, or any other of 
your associates, give him and all such to understand that, 
while you do not wish to be unfriendly, you must give up 
such companionships. Thus, then, by his example, and 
our association with him, a friend may prove most 
mischievous, most destructive ; and, in fact, there are few 
friends whom we can safely imitate and follow. Your 
friend may not be unsteady and vicious, but, though a 
sober man, perhaps he scoffs at religion. Your friend 

not be a scoffer, but, though professedly a religious 

man, -h man, who regards monev as 

Iful, and the acquisition of it the main 

purpose <»(' life, and who has no high moral principle to 

n and to guide him in hie to make money. 

Or, though neither a profligate, nor a scoffer, nor a 

Miid is perhaps an extravagant 
man, a man fond of Bhow, expensive in his dress, luxu- 
rious in his mode of living, better able to afford such a 



A EMEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED. 171 

style of things than you, or, if not better able, quite 
indifferent as to whether he pays his way or not. From 
such withdraw, thyself, lest thou become like unto them. 
The moral affinity subsisting between you and such is 
likely to be strengthened by frequent intercourse and 
confidential intimacy. You will probably imitate this 
friend of yours ; his principles will be insensibly instilled 
into your heart. " He who goes with the wolves, soon 
learns to howl." " He that walketh with wise men, shall 
be wise, but a companion of fools shall be destroyed." 
If indeed you think you can do those friends of yours 
any good, that you can bring back your profligate friend 
to the paths of virtue, convince your sceptical friend of 
the truth and importance of religion, show your avaricious 
friend the folly of gaining the world at the price of his 
soul, and check your extravagant friend by lecturing him 
upon the advantages of economy and the duty of owing 
no man anything ; if you have reason to believe that your 
influence over them will prove greater than theirs over 
you, that there is a balance of mental and moral power 
in your favor, then, as their friend, you are bound to 
speak to them, to remonstrate with them, to urge them 
to reform their ways ; but it is a dangerous experiment, 
one not to be ventured on, excepting by men whose views 
are very decided, whose character has great force, and 
who are fortified by the grace of God in their hearts ; 
otherwise the weak good man will probably be overcome 
by the strong bad man, and small virtues will stand no 
chance in the battle with great vices : " disease is, 
unhappily, more contagious than health." The example 
$f friends, therefore, often injurious, often utterly de- 



172 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

structive, is seldom perfectly safe in all respects ; but 
the great Friend of whom I have to speak, is one whose 
example may he wisely followed, who will never lead us 
astray, and intimacy with whom can only have an 
improving tendency ; sinless himself, the effect of friend- 
ship with him is the gradual destruction of sin in us. 
Studying well his glorious character, and transcribing it 
into our own, we become like him, or, as the Scripture 
says, "AYe put on Christ." And thus purity and honesty 
and temperance and meekness and gentleness and pa- 
tience and fortitude and benevolence, and all other 
virtues, spring from this holy friendship, for we are 
"changed into the same image." And he, I think, is a 
friend indeed, whose friendship, far from injuring our 
moral nature, has the effect of constantly improving and 
beautifying it. If the friendship of Christ can make us 
good men, and this is certain, it is far, far better than a 
friendship that could make us ever so rich, and advance 
our temporal interests ever so far. A friend in need ! 
Yes ; but what is need — what is our need? The hungry 
man says, I need bread ; the poor man says, I need 
money; the sick man says, I need health. But is there 
not another class of needs, common to us all? Must not 
every man who has any knowledge of himself say, I need 
moral improvement, and this I need far more than any 
temporal assistance? In this your need, then, your 
moral need — and a most pressing need it is — Christ will 
piove your friend indeed: hearken to his instructions, 
copy his example, and this need will be supplied. 

When we L>.»k into the friendships which exist amongst 
men, we generally find that their friendships are based 



A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED. . 173 

upon equality of position, similarity of tastes, social, 
mental, or moral properties which the friends possess in 
common, and which attract them to each other. There 
is much truth in the homely old proverb, " Birds of a 
feather flock together;" a very ancient saying, common 
to the Latins and the Greeks of past ages, as well as to 
ourselves. The clove is not the companion of the vulture, 
the lark, I suppose, is not on very friendly terms with 
the hawk. So, amongst men, the sober will not fraternise 
with the drunken, the honest man does not like the 
society of a rogue, scholars do not choose their friends 
from the ignorant and brutish, and the virtuous shrink 
from the companionship of the profligate, while the rich, 
the titled, and the great, would disdain to number the 
poor and lowly amongst their friends. In fact, it is one 
of the maxims of worldly wisdom, " to make election of 
thy betters, rather than of thy inferiors, shunning all 
that are needy," and in this maxim there is, no doubt, a 
good deal of worldly wisdom ; and an ancient author 
tells us, that to be influenced by a passion for similar 
pursuits, and to have similar dislikes, is the rational 
ground of lasting friendship. All this may be true of 
the common friendships of men. It is so difficult for us 
to dissociate the fault from him in whose character and 
conduct we perceive it, that we carry our dislike to the 
person himself; in hating roguery, we are apt to hate 
the rogue ; in hating profligacy, we hate the profligate 
too ; and in hating what we deem errors in politics and 
religion, we hate those who hold them ; at all events, 
though we may protest that our hatred does not extend 
to persons, if we are honest, we shall confess that the 



174 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

distinction is with great difficulty maintained. But the 
great Friend of the human race always preserves this 
distinction — always ; and thus he coidd he, and he was, 
the friend of publicans, although those publicans, the 
tax-farmers of that time, were, almost without exception, 
great rascals ; and he can be, and he is, and he glories 
in being considered the Friend of sinners. He is wiser 
than the wisest of mortals, and yet he can stoop to be 
the friend of the most ignorant and despised of mankind : 
he is purer than the purest of all the saints that ever 
lived, and yet he is the friend of the most vicious, the 
most debased, the most defiled wretches to be found in 
all the stews of debauchery; no one could regard the 
violation of the marriage vow with so great detestation 
as he, yet while sinful men were for stoning to death a 
woman taken in adultery, he said to her, "I do not 
condemn thee; go, and sin no more." "This man 
receiveth sinners, and eateth with them," was the objec- 
tion raised by the sanctimonious people of those days; 
they were greatly shocked ; they shook their wise and 
suspicious heads, no doubt, and said, "Birds of a feather 
flock together ; we know what sort of a man this is by 
the company he keeps; we know that he is no better 
than lie should be, or he would not go and dine with that 
idrel Zacchseus; and that fellow Matthew, too, he 
to his house, and Bat down to a grand feast, in 
company with nobody knows how many of those extor- 
tion,- 'I'm all this, the great Friend of sinners 
Baid, a T not a physician, but 
thoy that arc sicfc ; I came not to call the righteous, but 
sinners to repentance." These facts, recorded in the 



A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED. 175 

life of Jesus, show how he can and does regard the 
wicked — not with disgust, not with hatred, not with 
contempt. The hest of us are not worthy of his friend- 
ship, the worst of us- are not beneath his friendship. 
His friendship is not like common human friendships, 
grounded upon similarities and mental and moral sympa* 
thies ; wherever there is humanity, there is that which he 
can befriend, which his heart can pity, which his soul 
can embrace. He is holier than the holiest of men, but 
he does not say, even to the most impure, " Stand by 
thyself, come not near to me, for I am holier than thou." 
No, he gives us all a welcome, holds out to each of us 
the right hand of fellowship, and begs of us to become 
his friends, even as he is ours. However differences of 
character may separate the profligate from the friendship 
of the pure, the dishonest from the friendship of the 
righteous, the drunken from the friendship of the sober, 
and the wretched from the friendship of those who are 
well off in the world, all are equally welcome to the 
friendship of Christ, which ever distinguishes between 
the man and his faults and failings. And is not he a 
friend indeed, who is willing to befriend those who by 
their conduct have forfeited all human friendships, who 
by their crimes have made society their enemy, whom 
no eye pities, and no hand spares, and who are accounted 
a nuisance and a pest to be got rid of at any cost ? 
Christ is the friend of all such outcasts. Oh that they 
only knew this, and grasped that hand which is held out 
to save them, to raise them up, and to lead them into the 
paths of purity and peace ! 

Among human friendships, we do not often meet with 



1TG LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

a friend who will not flatter us, but will plainly, faithfully, 
though kindly, tell us our faults. Perhaps we do not 
like such friends as these ; their faithfulness kindles oui 
anger and resentment. AVe are weak enough to prefer 
the friends who admire us, who will stand up for us and 
justify us, whatever our conduct has been ; we are so 
foolish as to love the friend, if friend he can be called, 
who flatters us, compliments us upon our talents, upon 
our success. Now, such men are not in reality our 
friends ; they are doing us incalculable mischief, they are 
encouraging us in evil, they are hardening us in sin. 
They may not intend to injure us ; they may be per- 
fectly sincere in all that they say; and their silence with 
regard to our faults may arise from an unwillingness to 
wound our feelings and a fear of giving offence. They 
are perhaps not positively unfriendly; they have a de- 
sire to be friendly, but they arc unfaithful ; they have 
not taken a right measurement of the duties of friend- 
ship — duties which are often painful, and from which 
even the truest friend may sometimes be disposed to 
shrink. If, however, you wish to be any man's friend, 
bear in mind this duty of firmly, though with kindness, 
telling him what you know to be his faults; and, unless 

a fool, he will be thankful to you for your fidelity, 
and sec farmore genuine friendship in your sternest cen- 

of his misdeeds than in your wannest approbation 
of his best actions. This is one of the chief, yet certainly 
one of the most difficult, offices of friendship, to be faithful, 
to be honesl with our friend, and yet show our faithfulness 
and honesty in such a way as not to lose our friend. 
But "thou mayest be sure that he who will in private 



A FKIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEBB. 177 

tell thee of thy faults is thy friend, for he adventures 
thy dislike and doth hazard thy hatred ; for there are 
few men who can endure it, every man for the most part 
delighting in self-praise, which is one of the most univer- 
sal follies that bewitcheth mankind." "Let the right- 
eous smite me," says David, "it shall be a kindness; 
and let him reprove me, it shall be an excellent oil, 
which shall not break my head." " Rebuke a wise man,*' 
says Solomon, "and he will love thee;" and he also tells 
us that, "as an ear-ring of gold, and an ornament of fine 
gold, so is a wise reprover upon an obedient ear." Yes; 
we all feel that a faithful friend will tell us our faults ; 
and that those who, professing to be our friends, are 
ever complimenting us, are only trying to get to the 
blind side of us — are, if you will tolerate the expression, 
gammoning us, and wondering perhaps that we are so 
soft as to feel gratified by such professions of admiration 
and esteem. Now, if he who is a friend indeed must 
faithfully tell us of our faults, such a friend is Christ ; 
for although, as I have said, he is the friend of the sin- 
ner, he is no friend to that sinner's sin. When he 
went to the houses of the publicans, you may depend 
upon it he told them his mind very freely as to their 
wicked practices ; he did not come away leaving them to 
think that they were, after all, very good fellows. On 
the contrary, his friendship was faithfully carried out to 
the duty of firm, though not harsh, rebuke ; and so he 
deals with us all ; he flatters none. He tells us that we 
are all guilty in the sight of God ; he probes our con- 
sciences, and makes us feel that we have done wrong — 

that we are wrong altogether— that we have no virtues to 
12 



178 LE< OB THE PJfOPLH. 

brag of, no good deeds to be proud of — but that, on the 
contrary, we all deserve to perish, and can be saved only 
through the mercy of our God. lie describes us as un- 
profitable servants, as lost sheep, as prodigal sons. He 
solemnly assures us that, unless Ave forgive, we shall not 
he forgiven ; and that, except Ave repent, Ave shall all 
perish. Surrounded as Ave are by flatterers, who encour- 
age our self-esteem — by enemies, who, accusing us wrong- 
fully, only teach us to glory in our innocence of the 
specific charges which they bring against us — by indiffer- 
ent persons, who take no notice of us, and do not feel it 
to be their duty to admonish and to warn us ; and hav- 
ing within us a heart so prone to magnify our virtues ; 
to excuse our Alices, and to give us a very good testimo- 
nial of character, Ave do need a friend whose fidelity is 
equal to his kindness ; who, because he is really kind, is 
faithful, and because he desires to cure us of our faults, 
tells us of them. Such a friend is Christ — a friend in 
this our need, and therefore "a friend indeed." 

Again, human friendships are exceedingly fragile, ex- 
ceedingly capricious, almost proverbially unsteady. Kins- 
folk, who might be expected to be bound together by the 
strongest ties of amity, are often at open and bitter en- 
mity. •• A and his worst foes, his most re- 

hose of his own household." 

r that I am not rash, that I do not 

I under! ty, that a very 

i of families are thus divided, ''hateful, and 

hating one another;" and hence the proverb, "Many 

. few friends.'' Besides Christ, there may be 

many a friend * k that sticketh closer than a brother;" for, 



A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED. 179 

unhappily, friend and brother are by no means equivalent 
terms. And (apart from those bitter family feuds which 
have their too significant symptoms in the violent, though 
transitory, quarrels of children, and which in riper years 
often become so fixed, so deep, so implacable) who has not 
had to mourn over the coldness and indifference which 
prevail, where once there was the most fervent amity ? 
and frequently the merest trifle is sufficient to alienate 
the most attached friends, and to sunder for ever the 
strongest cords of an old and valued intimacy ; so that 
we have this cautious maxim of Mr. Worldly Wiseman, 
"Be not too intimate with thy friend, but always remem- 
ber that he may one day be thy enemy." And as we 
take offence, so it must be remembered we give it ; we 
have been, for some slight cause, or for no cause at all. 
cast off by a former friend ; have we not cast some friend 
off, for causes just as slight or as imaginary ? I should 
say that a real friend is such a one as that described by 
Solomon: " A friend loveth at all times ;" he is not easily 
offended, he knows how to overlook much, how to pardon 
much more ; he bears patiently with the infirmities of his 
friend's temper, and the faults of his friend's behavior ; 
he is not ashamed of him ; he does not renounce him 
when he becomes poor, nor even when he is disgraced by 
misconduct and crime. Perhaps it is too much to expect 
all this in an earthly friend ; yes, I know that, as things 
are amongst us, this is too much, for it needs not that a 
man should be disgraced by crime, poverty is disgrace 
enough ; and let a man who has held up his head in the 
world stumble into difficulty, and fall into straitened cir- 
cumstances, and many of his friends will be shy of him ; 



180 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

some of tlicm will give him the dead cut ; almost all will 
be ashamed of owning him as an acquaintance, and those 
who often sat at his hospitable board forget him, or treat 
him with contempt. Is not this the way of the world ? 
You know it is; you know it from observation, and many 
and many a man who has been broken by commercial 
disaster knows it by bitter experience. Yes, the friend- 
ship of the world is a rotten and a hollow thing. The 
constant friendship I have spoken of is more than you 
can expect from the world, but it is not more than you 
can look for from Christ ; his is a friendship which knows 
no change. Those reverses of fortune, which so often 
discover the worthlessness of other friendships, prove the 
strength of his, and never is he felt to be so friendly as 
when a man is most forsaken by his friends. 

Once more ; our earthly friends may neither be able 
nor willing to help us in our greatest need. In fact, 
many people expect far too much from their friends. 
Their friends must do everything for them ; give them 
flaming testimonials of character, lend them no end of 
money, become their sureties for a loan from a loan so- 
ciety, and get them out of every scrape into which their 
improvidence brings them. Some people have the organ 
spectation in a high state of development; scarcely 
:i day passes hut Borne one calls on me, and asks me to 
pay lii- fare to London, that lie may return to his friends, 
or to help him to make up his rent, or to raise money to 
sot him up in a little way of business, or to send him, his 
wife, and six children to Australia; within the last two 
or three weeks I have had three or four of these expect- 
in^ friends, whose united expectations, I assure you, 



A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED. 181 

amounted to .£250 at the very least. If I and my breth- 
ren in the minis tij j and the merchants and others whom 
the expecting class call upon, were to publish our experi- 
ence, it would make an amusing volume ; I could show 
that the whole of my income is expected from me at least 
twenty times every year, and therefore I quite agree with 
that old saying, " Friends are like fiddle-strings — they 
must not be screwed too tight." There are, of necessity, 
limits to the exercise of our friendship : and I hope I 
shall command your belief when for myself I say, that 
one of the trials and sorrows of my life is my inability 
to befriend so many who deserve assistance — my inability, 
for instance, to procure employment for industrious men 
out of work, as well as to give, to every deserving person 
who asks, relief in money. All men who are in any 
measure friendly in their disposition feel this, and are 
often as sorrowful as those whom they are compelled to 
dismiss without rendering them assistance. But our great 
Friend's power and willingness know no limits, and as 
a token of his friendliness he helped us in our greatest 
and utmost need, by suffering for us, and dying in our 
stead. Our greatest need is the need of pardon, the 
need of salvation ; well is it for the man who knows and 
feels that these are the things he wants most of all, and 
that the truest, deepest, best friendship is that which will 
supply them. Well is it for the man who, though con- 
scious that he needs many a temporal blessing, is also 
conscious that the eternal blessings of Redemption are 
of still greater importance, and that his need of them is 
more urgent and more pressing far. These greatest and 
best of all gifts have been secured to us by Him who loved 



132 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

us, and gave himself for us ; he bought them with hia 
blood; he "endured the cross, despising the shame," that 
he might make them ours; and now he freely offers them 
to you, to me, to every man, begging and entreating of 
us all to accept these proofs of his friendship, these irre- 
futable evidences of his love. Let us take these bless- 
• ings then— pai Uteousness, salvation, eternal life, 

heaven, all secured for us, all offered to us by him; and 
whatever else we really need, not whatever else we wish, 
but whatever else we want, whatever will be conducive 
to our true welfare, we may, I think, with reason believe 
He who loved us unto death will not be unwilling, will not 
be slow to provide ; whatever moral principle we need 
to bring to bear against temptation, whatever strength of 
purpose we need to engage in duty, whatever fortitude of 
soul we need to encounter trouble ; I most earnestly be- 
li ve he will give us all these things. And thus it ap- 
pears to me that though the friendships of the world are 
often so unwise, often so mischievous, often so inconstant, 
„ so disappointing, there is, above the world, One m 
whom, and whom alone, this proverh finds its verification; 
Jesus Christ, for every man -a friend in need," and, 
therefore a "friend indeed." 



FIVE SHILLINGS AND COSTS. 183 



LECTURE X. 

FIVE SHILLINGS AND COSTS., 

8< Five Shillings and Costs" — such is the sentence 
pronounced every year by the magistrates of Liverpool 
upon some thousands of persons, taken into custody by 
the police for being " drunk and disorderly." The five 
shillings speak for themselves, but what are the costs f 
" The costs !" " Oh," says some poor fellow who has a 
vivid remembrance of his own experience, " the costs are 
4s. 6d." " Is that all V " Yes, that's all." Well, we 
shall see. I do not think it is all ; I do not think it is 
more than a very small fraction of the costs. But let us 
first look at the mere money cost — 5s., plus 4s. 6d.,= 
9s. 6d. altogether. Not very much, you say, to pay for 
a jolly good spree ; yet it is this much ; it is to a work- 
ing man the price of nearly half a week's hard work, 
and that is too much to lose in these times, or in any 
times. It would pay a fortnight's rent for a working 
man ; or it would, at a pinch, keep him and his family 
in bread for a week ; or it would send little Tom and lit- 
tle Mary to a decent school for a quarter of a year ; or 
it would enable a man to go to the Saturday evening 
concerts from Michaelmas to Whitsuntide ; or it would 



184 LECTUKES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

purchase two or three good and instructive books. Only 
9s. 6d., my friends ! 9s. 6d. is not a sum to be lightly 
thrown away. Just consider to how many useful pur- 
poses it may be applied ; what comfort, advantage, real 
enjoyment, it can secure, if well expended ; and you 
will feel that it is no trifling matter — that it is at all 
events too much for a working man to lose. But the 
9s. 6d. is not all ; it costs something to get drunk, and 
then there is at least a day lost in appearing before the 
magistrate. Some it is true, can get into the " drunk 
and disorderly" state upon a very small sum, their heads 
being naturally light and weak; but if we strike an aver- 
age, taking into account the fact that very often, if not 
generally, several days are lost, then the price of the 
drink, and the price of the lost time, added to the " five 
shillings and costs," will probably amount to twenty 
shillings at the very least. In fact, I believe this to be 
very far below the real average figure. 

"Five shillings and costs," then, really means <£1 ; it 
often means, it generally means, a great deal more. 
When we take the aggregate of the cases dealt with by 
the magistrates, the "five shillings and costs" amount 
to an immense sum. During the year which ended with 
September last, the magistrates of this borough fined 
upwards of five thousand persons. Whether it was in 
every case a matter of exactly 9s. 6d. or not, I set the 
whole down at certainly not one farthing less than £5,000, 
taking into account the money spent in drink, and the 
lost time. But besides these live thousand, there were 
upwards of one thousand of the "drunk and disorderly" 
who were sent to gaol for various periods not exceeding 



FIVE SHILLINGS AND COSTS. 185 

three months. I shall average the imprisonment as low 
as three weeks ; the wages of each, or the amount which 
each would earn, at £1 per week ; so that the cost of 
the imprisonment — the" cost to the prisoners themselves, 
to say nothing of the cost to the country in furnishing 
them with lodgings — was £3000, which we must add to 
the .£5000, lost by the unimprisoned disorderlies, and 
then we have a total of at least £8,000. Now, although 
£1 a week is but little, still it is possible for a man and 
his wife and several children to live upon it ; and when 
it is economically spent, six persons at least may keep 
their heads above water, and live, not luxuriously, cer- 
tainly, but not in extreme necessity either. So this- sum 
of £8,000 would maintain nearly fifty thousand people 
for a week, and certainly would provide ten thousand per- 
sons with every necessary of life for an entire month. A 
month's subsistence for ten thousand people has been 
lost ; and here we are, with the prospect of a hard and 
gloomy winter before us. It seems to be the universal 
impression that bad times for the working people are at 
hand. "Five shillings and costs!" it means 9s. 6d. ; 
yes, and it means a month's subsistence for ten thousand 
people. If the "five shillings and costs" had been saved, 
I believe that we could stand the hard times that are 
coming. At all events, ten thousand persons would be 
able to stand them for a month. 

But the "five shillings and costs," most righteously 
exacted at the police court, represent only a small 
fraction of the real money-cost of intemperance. Some 
six thousand and odd were convicted; but more than 
eleven thousand were apprehended during the year 



186 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

ending with September. I rejoice much to find that this 
shows a very considerable decrease as compared with 
previous years. I do believe that we are improving ; 
that free libraries, and cheap concerts, and lectures for 
the people, and working men's associations, headed by so 
many Christian ministers, are beginning to tell : their 
influence is already felt. Fourteen hundred apprehen- 
sions fewer this year than last, and the decrease nearly, 
if not entirely, in the "drunk and disorderly" cases — a 
diminution of about ten per cent., as far as I can gather. 
Now this is something; and when referring to the 
probable causes of this most favorable change, I ought 
to have adverted to those fountains which I believe one of 
our benevolent and public-spirited townsmen has placed 
in the streets.. These fountains are certainly invaluable 
instruments of reformation, and one of the greatest boons 
ever bestowed upon the working public ; and I hope there 
is no profanity in applying, in this case, those well-known 
words which assure the benevolent man that such an act 
■t unnoticed by God, but that the gift of even a "cup 
of cold water shall in no wise lose its reward." There is 
happily a decrease, and a considerable decrease, in the 
number of apprehensions, and meanwhile the population 
is increasing. I earnestly wish that, year after year, we 

rejoice over similar reports, until this disgraceful, 
and pauperising, and most demoralising crime shall be 

minated. It is evident that a very decided success 
has crowned the efforts of philanthropic men in this town 
— a success which I am sure they themselves will feel to 
1 an ample recompense for all their toil. Let them 
thank God, take courage, and go forward in their noble 



FIVE SHILLINGS AND COSTS. 187 

enterprise, assured that "whatsoever a man soweth, that 
shall he' also reap." 

But still there were upwards of eleven thousand 
apprehensions of the ~ u drunk" and "drunk and disor- 
derly;" yet every man who gets drunk, does not fall into 
the hands of the police ; I should think that not one in 
twenty finds himself in this disagreeable predicament. I 
conclude, therefore, that there are considerably over one 
hundred thousand cases of intemperance annually in 
Liverpool, in which the legal " five shillings and costs" 
are never imposed. But there are heavy costs notwith- 
standing. The money spent in drink by the one hundred 
thousand, and their loss of time, must be estimated at 
nothing less than £50,000, which we must add to the 
£8000 already accounted for ; so that the costs must be 
about £60,000 per annum — spent not on such an amount 
of wine, or beer, or other liquid, as a man may, in the 
exercise of his sober judgment, deem needful or expedient 
for his refreshment, but spent in positive intoxication. 
Sixty thousand pounds ! that's the bill of costs— not for 
drink, but for drunkenness, in this town of Liverpool- — a 
sum that would enable thirty thousand persons to set 
penury at defiance for a period of three months. I think 
if we had saved this, we should be able to struggle with 
the coming winter, and be independent both of charity 
and augmented poor-rates. Well, it's gone — that sum 
of £60,000 — and you will remind me " that it's no use 
crying over spilled milk." I don't mean to cry over it; 
but I think it well to remember it, that we may learn to 
act more wisely for the future. And I do most earnestly 
beg of all my hearers, and of working men in particular, 



IbQ LECTURES FOR THE TEOrLE. 

to bear in mind the undeniable fact, that a trying season 
is coming on ; the storm that is raging now among the 
3 of the forest, when it has laid many of them 
prostrate, Avill blow keenly and severely upon the 
humbler shrubs. I believe that, should the benevolence 
of the wealthy be appealed to by the cries of suffering 
among the poor, that appeal will be cheerfully and nobly 
responded to, as it has been in former times, although 
many of the benevolent will find their energies crippled, 
and their means of doing good diminished. But I would 
appeal to the working people's sense of honor and love 
of independence ; there ought to be no necessity for the 
soup kitchen ; every man, by economy, might make his 
own soup in his own kitchen. At all events, this is no 
time for extravagance ; many of us will be severely 
pinched, with all our economy and forethought ; but if 
we can prepare for the storm, let us by all means prepare. 
I assure you there arc especial reasons just now why you 
should avoid the gin shop and the beer house — bad places 
at all times, particularly bad at present. Within the 
memory of man, there has never been a period which 
more imperatively called for the exercise of prudence, 
economy, and forethought, on the part of all people, from 
the richest to the poorest. Don't say that it is too late 
— "It's never too late to mend." However little you 
may be able to save before the pressure is very keenly 
felt, that little will be a relief when the heavy pressure 
comes ; if it only enables you to tide over a single week, 
a single day, it is something. So make all as snug as 
ten sail, keep a good look out — we are going 
to have a dirty night of it; you can hear the gale blow 



FIVE SHILLINGS AND COSTS. 189 

hard already, and the sea is rising and roaring. All 
imagery apart, I say again it is likely to go hard with us 
this winter ; for once, then, let the public-house be utterly 
forsaken ; for once let a manly self-denial be called into 
vigorous exercise ; think of your wives, think of your 
children, as you look at the gloomy weeks that are 
approaching. Do take warning, and remember those 
words of Solomon, exactly adapted to the present state 
of things, "A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth 
himself; but the simple pass on, and are punished." 

But I have not done with the money-cost yet ; those 
£60,000 are not all, for very often a man loses his 
employment by his intemperance, and is thrown out of 
work for many weeks together ; many a man loses two 
or three months in the year by intemperance. Let us 
say two months lost, by a mechanic who can earn 
twenty-five shillings a week ; there are «£10 gone ! My 
friend, if you can afford such losses, I am sure I cannot ; 
I find it very necessary to work all the year round. 
And let me observe that just at present no man should 
trifle with his work, or give his employer reason to 
discharge him for unsteadiness. Employers, I am afraid, 
will have reason enough for diminishing the number of 
their hands, without this. It is no time to say that if 
Brown gives you the sack, you can get a shop at Jones's ; 
or that if Jones is full-handed, you can get a job at 
Smith's, for Brown, Jones, and Smith may all find it a 
very difficult matter to keep on even a very limited 
number of hands. Therefore, stand by your work as 
long as your work stands by you ; trade is likely to be 
slack ; it's no time for going on tramp. Now, although 



190 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

I have no doubt that most'of my hearers are steady men, 
I have just as little doubt that here and there amongst 
them, there is one who "could a tale unfold" about this 

mat'.: knows to his sorrow that, what with 

the price of drink, the lost time, and the opportuni 

■it also lost, his costs have been very heavy 
— have made a beggar of him. To find the moTiey-cost, 
we should have to take an inventory of all the pawn- 
shops in the town; for a very great number, I should 
the great majority, of the articles pledged there, are 
properly items in the costs of intemperance. Clocks and 
watches — coats and waistcoats — shawls and gowns — ■ 
spoons and tea-pots — flutes and fiddles — charts and 
sextants — spying-glasses and spectacles — ear-rings and 
wedding-rings — axes and hammers — foot-rules and 
smoothing-planes — hoots and shoes — hats and caps — 
beds and blankets — pokers and tongs — Bhovels and 
fenders — aye, and even Bibles and prayer hooks — arc 
they not, in many instances, part of the costs? 

Further, in calculating these costs, we ought to take 
into our accounl the poor-rate. So very small would he 
the amount of pauperism, were it not for intemperance, 
that I do not hesitate to put down the poor-rate, almost 
dlling of it. as a part of these costs. The 
•pool and West workhouses, and what it 

requi aaintain them annual! jhow as what 

required to keep 

. the sums d on the construction 

l of law, are also in a 

: measure chargeable upon the intemperate habits 

of the people. Even our infirmaries and hospitals, and 



FIVE SHILLINGS AND COSTS. 191 

other charitable institutions, however necessary to meet 
the wants of those who are inevitably the subjects of 
suffering, are the receptacles of multitudes whose intem- 
perate habits, or the intemperate habits of whose parents, 
have made them the objects of charity. The costs, then, 
the merely pecuniary costs of this sin, it must be confessed, 
are enormous, and if no other argument could be urged 
against intemperance, this would be enough — we really 
cannot afford it. 

But the money cost is not all, there are heavy physical 
costs. Almost every day we hear of some fatal accident, 
or some premature death, caused by intoxication. The 
magistrate says, "Five shillings and costs" — nature, who 
is also a magistrate, often pronounces sentence of death. 
"Died from excessive drinking," is one of the most com- 
mon verdicts returned at a coroner's inquest; and "Died 
by the visitation of God," is often a blasphemous attempt 
to conceal the real cause. Then children are neglected, 
and fall into the fire, or in some other way lose their 
lives, solely owing to the drunken habits of their parents. 
And if we could only ascertain the numbers of those 
whose end is hastened by intemperance, I have no doubt 
that in the costs we should have to include, for Liverpool 
alone, every year, several hundreds of lives. Then there 
are probably thousands of children, feeble, sickly, rickety 
creatures, who can never become strong and healthy men 
and women ; they have inherited their weakly constitu- 
tions from their besotted fathers and mothers. "A 
hard thing," you say, "that they should suffer for their 
parents' sin;" hard or not, it is the undeniable fact — 
they do suffer, and very many of them die ; so true is it, 



LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

I in nature does " visit the iniquities of the fa- 

- upon the children to the third and fourth genera- 
tion ;" and with this fact before us, it is as useless as it 
is impious to murmur against God, and ask, " Why hast 
thou made us thus ?" 

The lesson which we are to learn from this fact is this 
— that God has thus marked his hatred of this sin in the 
most unmistakable manner. Did it never strike you 
that a father may be most heavily responsible for the 
physical constitution of his children ? If through his in- 
temperance — and the same remark applies to the mother 
— if through the intemperance of either or both, the child 
is feeble, so that its life is really a burden and a distress, 
I believe that the Divine Being will enter into judgment 
with those parents for all this weakness and all this woe. 
Thousands of children are murdered in a far more cruel 
and shocking manner than if they were poisoned or 
drowned. A parent would stand aghast at the idea of 
thus putting an end to his child's life; but I tell you, 
you had better do it thus, if it is to be done, than make 
your child the victim of your intemperate habits. If 
through a father's intemperance a child is starved, if 
through a mother's intemperance it lives in filth, if 
through the intemperance <>f either or both it sickens, 
and pines, and perishes, God will not hold those parents 
guiltless; it is in his Bight a clear case of murder — of 
'. deliberate murder: the blood of that child cries 
inst his parents from the grave. I do most solemnly 
believe, although it is terrible to believe it, that thou- 
sand^ and mothers will, at God''s bar, have 
r for the awful crime of destroying their own 



FIVE SHILLINGS AND COSTS. 193 

children, through this sin of drunkenness. But apart 
from the physical costs which so often fall upon an in- 
temperate man's children, they are generally heavy to 
himself. "Who hath wounds without cause ? Who hath 
redness of the eyes ?" asks Solomon, and he might have 
asked, "Who hath blackness of the eyes ?" Almost every 
row, and shindy, and disturbance, resulting in the inflic- 
tion of some physical suffering, springs directly from in- 
toxication. If you meet a man who bears upon his person 
the marks of physical violence, a black eye or a plastered 
nose, you conclude at once that he has been drunk; and 
the exceptions are so very rare, that you are quite justified 
in coming to such a conclusion ; it requires an immense 
stretch of charity to form any other conclusion. It is very 
possible for a man to receive such marks when perfectly 
sober, through some sober accident; but so general is 
the conviction that they are in some way associated with 
intoxication, that a prudent man will rather stay in his 
house for a week, than expose himself to suspicion. 
Three-fourths of the diseases prevalent in society are 
traceable to this one source; I certainly believe that the 
majority of people who are ill have themselves to blame 
for it, and deserve very little sympathy; they ought to 
be ill; the verdict of common sense is just this— "Serve 
them right." Among the physical costs, too, we may, I 
think, include idiocy and insanity; there is scarcely a 
more melancholy, a more horrible spectacle in this world, 
than that of a human creature destitute, or all but desti- 
tute of reason. To see an idiot's vacant stare, to hear a 
madman's hollow laugh, is it not fearful ? This dreadful 
evil is generally looked upon as a mysterious dispensation 

id 



194 LECTURES TO THE PEOPLE. 

of Divine Providence. Now, in many cases, you might 
as reasonably and as piously say that it was by a myste- 
rious dispensation of Divine Providence that a drunken 
man was run over and killed by a railway train. It is 
a most shocking impiety to make Divine Providence ac- 
countable for our own neglect of the laws of nature. It 
is a well ascertained fact, that mental imbecility and de- 
rangement are more frequently traceable to intemper- 
ance, than to any other source. The Earl of Shaftesbury 
has stated, as the result of his observation and enquiries, 
that " fully five-sixths of all the cases of insanity to be 
found in these realms, and in America, arise from no 
other cause than from the intemperate habits in which 
the people have indulged." 

Dr. Lowe, in his celebrated reports on idiocy, states, 
that out of 300 idiots, whose history he could learn, 145 
had had habitual drunkards for their parents, he names 
the case of one drunkard who had seven idiotic children. 
Here, again, parental responsibility appears in a most 
striking light ; not only may the child suffer in body 
through the parent's intemperance, his mind also may be 
affected ; he may turn out a lunatic — a raging maniac ; 
and the madness, which, through intoxication, is inci- 
pient in the parent, may be confirmed in the unhappy 
offspring. "Mysterious dispensation of Providence!" 
you exclaim, when you see an idiot; not always, my 
friend ; beware how you speak of Providence in connec- 
tion with man's miseries ; that idiocy may be the result 
of a dispensation not at all mysterious — of gin. lean 
scarcely imagine anything more horrible than the case 
of that drunken father of seven idiotic children, all 



FIVE SHILLINGS AND COSTS. 195 

idiots through his licentiousness ; what a frightful re- 
sponsibility ! Truly " the ways of transgressors are 
hard," and at the last this sin "biteth like a serpent, 
and stingeth like an adder." The 9s. 6d. do not include 
all the costs; God imposes Ids fines too; there they are — 
the seven idiotic children, staring, gibbering, and howling 
at the wretched parent, himself fast sinking into idiocy 
too. But is not every case of intoxication a case of 
temporary insanity — insanity wilfully brought on? 
When a man gets drunk, the English of it is that he 
goes mad ; that he deliberately chooses to renounce his 
reason. If you were to say to a man who was drunk 
last night, "I understand that you were insane," he 
would probably be very angry. This, however, is the 
right way of putting it, and I would advise you to adopt 
some such expression ; it may perhaps induce some feel- 
ing of shame ; ask him whether he keeps a strait waist- 
coat in his house ? Thus then, in estimating the costs, 
we ought to include the great majority of fatal accidents 
— the great majority of diseases — a large proportion of 
the cases of lunacy — and, I must add, a considerable 
proportion of murders. Such are some of the costs of 
this tremendous sin. 

But the estimate is still incomplete ; another of the costs 
is great domestic wretchedness. The extent of this may 
be imagined when I tell you, that of the 11,439 appre- 
hensions, 4898, not so very far from half, were cases in 
which women were taken into custody for being " drunk," 
or u drunk and disorderly." Still, it is but fair to state 
that of these 4898 cases, very nearly half were prosti- 
tutes. The house oftthe drunkard cannot but be wretched : 



196 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

in most cases it is the abode of abject poverty ; and al- 
though sober poverty may be borne in a spirit of resig- 
Q , drunken poverty always engenders discord and 
hatred, I do not think it is true of all poverty, that 
when "it comes in at the door, love flies out at the win- 
dow ;" that proverb is I think a libel on the poor, for in 
many houses where bread is scarce, where luxuries are 
utterly unknown, and the man has to struggle very 
hard to "keep the wolf from the door," there is never- 
theless affection as pure and as fervent as in the abodes 
of people who have every comfort they can desire; but 
when this self-inflicted poverty, arising from extrava- 
gance and intemperance, comes in, there is an end of 
love; mutual recriminations take place between man 
and wife ; " their mouths are full of cursing and bitter- 
ness ;" violent quarrels ensue; from words they get to 
blows— there is a disgraceful scuffle— the whole neigh- 
borhood is roused, and the woman is often beaten within 
an inch of her life. I feel sure that almost every case 
of wife-beating might be put down among these costs. 
Then there is such confusion, disorder, dirt, especially if 
the wife is addicted to the bottle; every thing goes 
wrong, every thing is out of its place; when the man 
goes home in the evening, there is nothing tidy, nothing 
• irlaM( , nothing to induce him to stay at home. I 
don't wonder at some men going to the public house; 
there's a better Ww there, more cleanliness there, even 
there, and fewer cross looks and angry 
word8 . The old song says, -There's no place like 
home f this may be true in a bad sense, as well as in a 
good. ' " No place like home" for or<§r, neatness, cheer- 



FIVE SHILLINGS AND COSTS. 197 

fulness, quietness, comfort, and good temper ; or " no 
place like home" for confusion, filth, gloom, uproar, dis- 
comfort, and ill-temper. The man who is himself in- 
temperate, and who has an intemperate, slatternly 
spouse, may well say, "There's no place like home." 
And under these circumstances the children are ne- 
glected ; they grow up in squalor and filth ; their educa- 
tion is lost sight of; if they are sent to school this week, 
they are kept at home next week, for the intemperance 
of the parent has swallowed up even the trifling sum ne- 
cessary to keep the little ones at even the humblest and 
cheapest school. In most cases, the children of such 
parents are just allowed to educate themselves in the 
streets ; parental authority there can be none ; the fa- 
ther's and mother's example sets all precept at defiance; 
goaded by hunger, they take to dishonest courses — the 
boys to thieving, the girls to prostitution. The necessity 
for ragged schools arises almost entirely from the intem- 
perance of parents. 

A gentleman connected with the Edinburgh Industrial 
School says, " Had it not been for habits of intemperance, 
no fewer than 85 per cent, of the children under my care 
might never have required either to beg their bread or to 
attend ragged schools." A short time ago, it was ascer- 
tained that upwards of two-thirds of the boys in the 
Glasgow House of Refuge were the children of drunken 
parents ; and it is very certain that the inmates of our 
juvenile reformatories are almost all the offspring of men 
and women given to intoxication. "We all know that it 
is difficult enough to train up children in the ways of 
virtue and religion, even when home is all that could be 



198 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

desired, where there is every material comfort, where 
there are abundant and wholesome food, strict cleanliness. 
car< ful education, good precepts enforced by a corres- 
ponding example; and from the difficulty experienced 
under the most favorable circumstances, we may form 
some idea of the frightful results of such neglect as must 
be the unhappy portion of a drunkard's family. Here, 
then, is another lot of costs: home wretchedness in its 
every form — want — dirt — disorder — quarrels — squabbles 
— fighting between man and wife — ignorance and crime 
on the part of the children — school forsaken — parents' 
authority set at nought — parental example only too 
faithfully copied. If a child who has risen above the 
years of infancy see his parent drunk, is it to be 
expected that he will ever respect him? What good 
influence can such a parent ever hope to exercise ? A 
thousand days of sobriety will not obliterate from the 
child's mind the remembrance of that miserable moment, 
when he saw his father or his mother staggering under 
the effects of drink. No ! I am afraid it is all over with 
that parent's influence for good. Take into account, 
then, all this domestic wretchedness, the poverty, the 
dirt, the disorder, the neglect, the hatred, the quarrels, 
all arising from this source, and I think you will see that 
the 9s. 6d. is a very small affair in the calculation of 
these costs. 

Character, too, is another of these costs. I do not 

thai Bobriety is the yery first essential of a good 

character; sobriety musl give place to honesty. Of two 

men, one of win mi is Btrictly temperate, but dishonest, 

the other strictly honest, hut intemperate, I have a very 



FIVE SHILLINGS AND COSTS. 199 

decided preference for the latter; and I will not so 
exaggerate the virtue of temperance as to say, that 
wherever this is, you will find honesty as well ; for I have 
met with not a few who were perfect patterns of sobriety, 
and indeed advocates for sobriety, whose character for 
truthfulness stood very low indeed; but certainly, next to 
honesty, men require sobriety in the people whom they 
employ. An unsteady man is not fit to take a situation 
of trust ; he has lost all self-respect, and therefore very 
naturally forfeits the respect of others. I say he has 
lost his self-respect, for you seldom find an intemperate 
man ashamed of his vile habit ; very frequently he even 
glories in it. At all events, he makes very light of it, 
laughs at it, does not seem to feel that there is anything 
bad, anything disgraceful, in it. He will tell you that he 
was jolly drunk, or gloriously drunk ; he appears to think 
that there is something almost worthy of admiration in 
getting into such a state ; and this insensibility to the 
sinfulness of intemperance is one of the most serious of 
the evils. It shows that the man's moral sense is 
destroyed — that his conscience is seared — that he is 
rapidly degenerating into something far worse than a 
brute. I do not wish to encourage pride ; but I will say 
this, that if there were no other argument against 
intemperance, this ought to be enough. A man ought to 
be too proud ever to allow himself to be intoxicated ; he 
ought to have too high a sense of the dignity of his own 
nature to tolerate this degradation for a moment. Most 
persons consider it peculiarly disgraceful in a woman, 
but I have yet to learn in what respects it is more 
disgraceful in her than in a man. If she be the "weaker 



200 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

vessel," which a high authority declares her to be, then 
I think that common sense would say that, disgraceful ag 
intemperance is in her, it is really far worse in man. 
And I maintain that every trade, every body of workmen, 
ought to consider an intemperate person as a source of 
degradation and weakness. Have no fellowship with 
him ; it is no tyranny to refuse to work with him ; no 
injustice to exclude him from your associations. Don't 
fine him — expel him with ignominy ; his fines can never 
compensate for the disgrace which he brings upon you. 
In any dispute between employers and employed, it is 
generally a question of strength, and every intemperate 
man is a source of weakness ; the unsteady man cannot 
afford to hold out, excepting at the expense of the steady. 
Employers cannot but respect the sober and industrious, 
and in their turn the sober and industrious are likely to 
be most reasonable and fair in the terms which they wish 
to make with employers. If you think that the claims 
of labor are not recognised as they ought to be — if you 
think that capital often oppresses labor, and grinds it 
down to the lowest possible point of endurance — be sure 
of this, that the evil will continue unless the employed, 
by their Bteadiness and economy, have some solid founda- 
tion to stand upon. Mere appeals to the public, however 
earnest, however eloquent, however touching, will produce 
no effect. Perhaps the public ought to pity the over- 
wrought and under-paid artisan, but the public will buy 
what it wants ai the lowest price at all consistent with 
economy, and the artisan's only appeal is to the strength 
which sobriety and industry afford; the artisan's only 
appeal is to his own power to demand higher wages, 



FIVE SHILLINGS AND COSTS. 201 

"which power depends upon the amount of his savings, 
and this is regulated by his sobriety, industry, and 
economy. 

In estimating the costs of intemperance, we must also 
take into account those other sins to which intoxication 
is an incentive, and for which it prepares the way. 
Amongst these, we must mention lewdness. There are 
comparatively few men who yield to the enticements of 
the harlot in perfectly sober moments ; the intellect must 
be obscured, the moral sense blinded, the passions in- 
flamed by drink, before a man will give his arm to a 
prostitute, and accompany her to the brothel. I do not 
say that this is always the case, but it is very certain 
that such is the general consequence. These two crimes 
are most intimately related to each other. If extreme 
poverty often drives a girl to the streets, that extreme 
poverty is the result of intemperance. If an unhappy 
girl is seduced, intoxication is generally resorted to in 
order to effect her ruin. If she continues in her wretched 
course of life, she does so supported by the stimulus of 
intemperance. A distiller, at a public dinner of the 
trade, had the shameless audacity to propose as one of 
the toasts, "The distiller's best friends — the poor whores 
of London." A very shocking toast; yes, but there was 
much truth in it. The gin-palace, the beer-house, and 
the brothel, all play into each other's hands ; in some 
instances even married women hold themselves at the 
call of some neighboring beer-house for the most grossly 
immoral purposes. I could easily multiply statements 
of facts ; I could show that public-houses or beer-houses 



202 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

arc kept for the express purpose of harboring prostitutes, 
and furnishing the brothels with customers: but what I 
have said is enough, I think, to indicate that the two 
3 are closely allied; so closely, indeed, that the 
extinction of intemperance would be followed by the 
almost entire extinction of the other form of profligacy. 
Here, then, is another account opened, another heavy 
bill of costs, pecuniary, physical, and moral ; pecuniary 
— for need I speak of the reckless extravagance and the 
robberies of which the house of ill-fame is the continual 
Bcene ; physical — for you know to what frightful suffering 
Buch licentiousness gives rise ; moral — for of all sins, this 
is the most horrible in its effect upon the soul, making 
the man the miserable slave of his animal nature, 
silencing the voice of conscience, filling the heart with 
utter impurity; frightful as are its effects upon the body, 
they are only too truly typical of the havoc which this 
sin makes in the spiritual nature of its victim. 

Another crime encouraged by drunkenness is dishon- 
esty. " It',s hard for an empty sack to stand upright ;" 
the extreme poverty produced by intemperance is at all 
events a temptation to act dishonestly. If people, rather 
than deny th< gin and whiskey and beer, will take 

their furniture, their tools, and clothes to the pawnbrokers 
. — if they will Bell even their beds and lie upon straw, 
rather than go without drink — I can scarcely suppose 
that they will stick at anything, that they will most reli- 
giously abstain iV g other people's property, when 
kndfl in their way. Most of those very common cases, 
in which young men in offices and shops embezzle their 



FIVE SHILLINGS AND COSTS. 203 

employers' money, are traceable to this source. It is 
not so much the love of money, as the craving after li- 
centious indulgence which they cannot afford. The mis- 
erable boys and girls who prowl about the streets and 
steal, are almost without exception driven to this course 
by the intemperance of their parents, who leave them to 
the dreadful alternative — theft, or starvation. And 
nearly all crimes of violence, assaults, stabbings, man- 
slaughters, murders, are the progeny of this most prolific 
of all sins. On the testimony of statesmen, parliament- 
ary reports, the inspectors, governors, and chaplains of 
prisons, police magistrates, sheriffs, recorders, and judges 
of assizes, it can be most fearlessly asserted that nearly 
all the crime of the country is to be reckoned among the 
costs of this one evil. To crown all, this sin, if persisted 
in, involves as its last cost the soul; for it is written in a 
book, which I believe to be of divine authority, and the 
divine authority of which I suppose many of you also 
recognise, "No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of 
God." Venial as this sin may seem to some, lightly as it 
is regarded, considered by many as a failing, an infirmity, 
designated by many such apologetic terms, it is classed 
in the Scriptures among the foulest offences of which a 
man can be guilty. Even if there were no scriptural 
protest against it, the effects which it produces are proof 
enough to any sensible man that it is a practice which 
God hates. By these temporal effects God gives us all 
fair warning ; he does not leave us in doubt as to the 
mcral aspect of our conduct ! 

"Five shillings and costs ;" only think of the tremen- 



204 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

clous meaning of tins word costs, "when rightly understood. 
Four and sixpence — nonsense! the costs are poverty, dis- 
. idiocy, madness, loss of character, loss of self-re- 
spect, tic misery, disobedience in children, the ruin 
of a man's family, prostitution, theft, violence, murder, 
dark and endless perdition, body ruined and soul undone, 
all lost for evermore ; this, it strikes me, is the proper 
way of estimating the costs. 

Let me then persuade you ever to shun this devil of 
intemperance. On economical grounds I would urge so- 
briety, and especially just now ; for again let me remind 
you, we are just entering on a period of trial which will 
tax working men to the very uttermost. Willful waste 
always produces woeful want ; but without pretending to 
be a prophet, I feel certain that willful waste now is next 
to suicide. By your regard for your health — by your 
regard for reputation — by your self-respect as men — by 
your love of domestic happiness — by your concern for 
the welfare of your children — by the value of your ever- 
lasting interests — by all that is worth having in time, and 
worth hoping for in eternity — I conjure you to avoid 
these costs, by avoiding the sin. And speak to your 
neighbors, your shopmatcs, who are in danger of some- 
thing far worse than the ordinary " five shillings and 
costs;" explain to them the real meaning, the awful ex- 
tent of the costs. If, for your own safety and the setting 
of an example, you deem it right to abstain altogether 
from tasting, touching, handling anything of an intoxicat- 
ing nature, do so; but at all events let perfect sobriety be 
your invariable rule, and urge perfect sobriety upon all. 



FIVE SHILLINGS AND COSTS. 205 

A id so shall the words "five shillings and costs" be sel- 
dom heard in our police courts — so shall we escape these 
cotts, pecuniary, physical, social, and spiritual — and, by 
Gcd's blessing, we shall become a happy, a virtuous, be- 
came a sober, people ! 



20G LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 



LECTURE XI. 



SATURDAY NIGHT. 

Saturday Night has charms for a working man, 
which those who do not eat their bread in the sweat of 
their brow can scarcely be expected to understand. The 
toils of the week are over, the implements of labor are 
laid aside, the working world washes the dust off its face, 
and looks with pleasure for the coming day of rest. The 
factory bell, that rings on Saturday afternoon, is the 
very bell which rang on Monday morning ; but it seems 
to have a more cheerful sound, and to partake of the 
general joy ; the man who rings it appears to ring it 
with a hearty good will; however hoarse and cracked it 
may bo at other times, it becomes musical on Saturday 
evening; ami its welcome voice sends a thrill of happi- 
ness through ten thousand hearts, and causes ten thou- 
sand faces to brighten up with gladness. And how punc- 
tually the summons is obeyed ! In the morning, when it 
sulkily calls to work, it is a very common thing for men 
to be two, three, four, or five minutes behind; but who 
ever heard of any man's making such a mistake as to 
continue his work for one moment after the first sound 
of the Saturday evening's bell? On the contrary, that 



SATURDAY NIGHT. 207 

sound is waited for with anxious anticipation. Men look 
at their watches every three minutes for half an hour 
before the time ; and if the bell were the signal of fire on 
the premises, there could scarcely be a more instantan- 
eous or more general rush for the door than I have often 
seen, and I must confess, often joined in, when that 
sound of jubilee is heard. It is marvellous to ob- 
serve what life it puts into our operative brothers. If 
any one thinks that the six days of work have tired 
them out, that their strength is exhausted, that they are 
ready to faint ; and if, under this impression, he pities 
the fagged, jaded, used-up sons of toil — let him know, 
for his consolation, that there is an unfailing remedy for 
this sad state of things ; let him rest assured that the 
most prostrate workman will revive, and be himself again, 
be fresher far than on Monday morning, when, on 
the Saturday afternoon, the minute hand of the clock 
is at twelve, and the hour hand at four. At that 
time the very face of the clock beams with benevolence, 
and relaxes into a smile ; and such a position of its 
hands, combined with Saturday afternoon, does more to 
drive a working man's dull care away, more to warm his 
heart and give him joy, than all the sympathising 
speeches and expressions of pity with which the philan- 
thropic portion of the upper orders condescend to favor 
what they term the working classes. 

Saturday night, then, is to millions of our people a 
time of much enjoyment, and the prospect of it greatly 
lightens the toils of the whole week. Since it is such a 
boon, it may be well just to ask, To what are we indebted 
for it ? Now that which chiefly causes Saturday night 



208 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE 

to differ favourably from other nights is the fact that it 
is followed by a day of rest. Saturday night borrows 
most of its beauty from the Sunday ; if this were not a 
day of repose, that would not be an evening of enjoy- 
ment. For the Sunday, I need scarcely say, we are in- 
debted to religion, to Christianity. And it is instructive 
to observe that when the French Revolutionists over- 
threw all religious observances, although they did reserve 
for the people a day of rest, they gave only one day in 
ten ; they professed to be the staunch and ardent friends 
of the people ; many of them were men of the people, 
men who had sprung from the humblest callings, 
and risen to the highest offices in the State. One 
might have expected from them, at the least, one 
day in five. After removing the yoke of religion be- 
cause it was so heavy, because it pressed so severely on 
the shoulders of the people, an Age of Reason might 
have been expected to lighten the burden ; but, instead 
of this, that burden was increased from six days' work to 
nine without an interval of rest ; the people lost sixteen 
days of repose in the year. And thus you perceive that, 
in one respect at least, and that a very important one, 
infidelity was far from being as generous as Christianity; 
the so-called Age of Reason was not so considerate of 
the comfort of working men as what was termed the Age 
of Superstition had been, for more than a thousand years. 
Indebted, then, as we are to religion for the Sunday, and 
therefore for the chief elements of Saturday night's advan- 
tageousness, it would seem to me but fair that this should 
be thankfully remembered, and that as religion should 
be honored on the Sunday, it should at least not be dis- 



SATURDAY NIGHT. 209 

honored on that evening which derives from the Sunday 
so much of its brightness, which owes to the Sunday its 
power of diffusing so much happiness, and which, but 
for the Sunday, would not differ very favorably from 
any other evening of the week. 

On Saturday evening, men generally receive their 
wages, and this, it must be admitted, is a pleasant fact 
in a man's existence. But here I am reminded that in 
very many instances the pleasure arising from this cir- 
cumstance is very considerably diminished. For many 
morning quarters are lost, and in some trades Saint 
Monday is most scrupulously observed ; and the worship 
of Saint Monday is so fatiguing, that it requires Tuesday 
to get over it ; and the process of getting over it is so 
severe sometimes, that the early part of Wednesday is 
also required; frequently has Saint Monday been known 
to floor a man for the whole of the week ; and hence it 
comes to pass that the full wages of six days' work are 
very seldom received by a large number of men. Those 
lost quarters and Saint Mondays have a most disgusting 
appearance on Saturday night; they rob the Saturday 
night of much of its pleasantness; they make it a very 
gloomy period; for how can a man be very comfortable 
as he goes home with fifteen shillings in his pocket, and 
with the reflection that if he had not been such a block- 
head he might have had ten or fifteen shillings more ? 
I wonder how he can face his family under such circum- 
stances. I wonder that he is not utterly ashamed of his 
unmanly conduct ; for unmanly it certainly is, and un- 
manly in the extreme, when, though it was in his power 

to earn a full week's wages, he makes only four or five 
14 



210 LKCTURl HE PEOPLE. 

days. ITc who would have the full enjoyment of 
Saturday night m the full week's 

he will have the consciousness that so far he has done 
his best for his own welfare and that of those who 
dependent upon his toil ; and Saturday night must n 
be miserable, and ought to be miserable, if it bring with 
it the remembrance of a misspent week. I do not wish 
a man to become avaricious, but I think that he may take 
a lawful pleasure and a justifiable pride in earning all 
that he honestly can earn. If he loves his family, he 
will do this, for he will feel that every hour of lost time 
is so much comfort and happiness taken from those that 
are dear to him; and again I say that Saturday night 
depends in sjune measure for its happiness upon the 
manner in which the week has been spent; four days' 
wages instead of six will make Saturday night anything 
but pleasant to the man who has willfully lost his time. 
Wages are often paid on Friday, and this is believed 
to be, on many accounts, a preferable system. It would 
be well if the Friday night were more generally chosen, 
were chosen as generally as possible. Such a plan would 
obviate the necessity for marketing late on the Saturday 
evening. I do not know whether anything is gained in 
a pecuniary sense by earlier marketing, but I am sure 
you will agree with me that it is a hardship that so many 
-Mould, through late marketing, be deprived of 
all the advantages of the Saturday night. Many offices 
1 at two o'clock on Saturday, giving the clerks 
the remainder of the day; a very large number of man- 
ufactories shut up at four: almost all our operatives are 
set free by six at the latest There is a £Ood deal of 



SATURDAY NIGHT. 211 

agitation for a half holiday on the Saturday, but there 
is a large and useful class of persons who seem to be 
almost forgotten, to whom Saturday is the severest day 
of the week, and Saturday evening the severest part of 
that day. The payment of wages on Saturday necessi- 
tates late purchases ; hence, drapers, grocers, druggists, 
bakers, butchers, and shopkeepers generally, with all the 
young people in their employ, are engaged until ten and 
eleven o'clock, and sometimes until midnight; and thus 
there are thousands in every large town to whom Satur- 
day evening brings no relief, affords no enjoyment, but 
is, on the contrary, a time of excessive occupation. 
And they are not only deprived of all the opportunities 
of recreation and instruction which the Saturday night 
affords to others, their Sunday's rest is also seriously in- 
terfered with ; not only is it in vain, so far as they are 
concerned, that this hall, and, through the example set 
by this hall, so many other public rooms in the town, are 
filled with refreshing and refining music on the Saturday 
evening; not only is it in vain, as far as they are con- 
cerned, that the office closes at two o'clock, and the fac- 
tory at four; it must also be borne in mind that the ex- 
cessive occupation of the late hours of Saturday, and ex- 
cessive occupation in the hot and oppressive atmosphere 
of a shop that for many hours has been blazing with 
gas, cannot but tend to unfit them for the rational and re- 
ligious enjoyment of the day of sacred rest. On other 
evenings the shopman's hours are late enough, and, in- 
deed, too late, in most cases ; but on Saturday evening, 
when all the rest of the people are enjoying their leisure, 
such hours are really intolerable. If, then, wages can 



212 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

be paid on Friday, or if, at whatever time wages are 
paid, all marketing can be doneearly, the great Christian 
law, the great golden rule, finds here a fair case for conscien- 
tious and careful application: "All things whatsoever ye 
would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." 
So selfish are mankind that the slavery of the shop- 
man, chained behind his counter until eleven or twelve 
o'clock, is scarcely thought of by those who would con- 
sider it a shocking and unbearable invasion of their rights 
to be compelled to do a hand's turn after four on the 
Saturday afternoon. The public too often regard the 
shopman as if he were part and parcel of his shop, 
as insensible to suffering as his own counter, as hard in 
constitution as his iron scale-beam. On behalf of this 
numerous and useful and respectable class I have often 
pleaded, and would now plead again. The public, and 
the public alone, can set them free, and make their Sa- 
turday evening what it ought to be. But if we were all 
to make this a matter of conscience, to remember that 
Christ's great rule is applicable to such a case as this, as 
well as to cases of greater importance and magnitude ; 
if, remembering this, we abstained as much as possible, 
and out of a regard for the comfort if not for the rights 
of others, from all late shopping transactions, I do not 
see why, with wages paid on Friday, and all due care 
exercised in our household economy, the shops and 
the markets should not bo closed at an early hour; 
how early I shall not presume to say; but, at all 
events, early enough to leave much of the Saturday 
evening free for amusement, for instruction, and for that 
quietude which is a fitting preparation for a happy and 



SATURDAY NIGHT. 213 

profitable Sunday. And while the deserted appearance 
of the strictly mercantile streets so early on the Satur- 
day, and the silence of all the mills and factories after 
four or five o'clock, suggest the thought that the great 
bulk of the population is set at liberty, it would be wrong 
to forget that so large a proportion of our working bro- 
thers and sisters were prohibited from sharing in the 
general repose, wrong to do needlessly aught that shall 
prolong their occupation beyond those limits which na- 
ture has marked out, and which cannot be transgressed 
"without results injurious alike to both the body and the 
soul. If late hours were to the shopman what they are 
to the mechanic, something might be said in their favor, 
the grievance would not be so heavy, perhaps there 
would be comparatively little to complain of. For over- 
time with a mechanic means extra wages, and each hour 
of overtime is generally worth more than an hour of or- 
dinary time ; and, accordingly, I have known such a 
man to make not only six days between Monday morn- 
ing and Saturday evening, but also six days more be- 
tween Saturday evening and Monday morning. But of 
this the assistant in a shop knows nothing, he does not 
get a farthing for his long hours ; and overtime with 
him simply means extra work, extra fatigue, and nothing 
to show for it, nothing to compensate him for the unna- 
tural strain upon his constitution and the unfair tax 
upon his time. A Saturday night for all should be our 
object, and a Saturday night for all, or very nearly all, 
is practicable; and I hope to see the day when, through 
a conscientious regard for the health and happiness of 
our fehow-men, the shops, as well as the factories, shall 



21-i LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

be closed early, and all employed in shops, as well as all 
artisans, shall have their Saturday evening's freedom 
and enjoyment. But while late shopping on Saturday 
night is bad enough, a worse practice than this exten- 
sively prevails. Many persons defer their visits to the 
greengrocers, and other tradesmen, until Sunday morn- 
ing ; thus rendering it impossible for not a few to attend 
a place of worship on the earlier part of the Sabbath, 
unless they are prepared to submit to a loss. It is true 
they are not compelled to open their shops ; but I think 
you will admit that it is unfair to put them into such a 
position as entails cither the loss of money or the loss of 
religious privileges. 

But it would be better for many to be chained to the 
counter until midnight, or even until sunrise, than to 
spend the Saturday night as it is too often spent by them. 
Unhappily, the very title of this lecture is suggestive of 
much that is foolish, of much that is wicked, of much 
Chat is miserable ; for Saturday night is to multitudes a 
season chosen and set apart for extravagance and dissi- 
pation. There is, at least, one truth which Saturday 
night never fail- to illustrate with many striking exam- 
ples, and confirm by many infallible proofs, viz., that 
k * a Fool and his money arc soon parted." There are some 
who make haste to be rich ; there arc more who are in a 
desperate hurry to become poor. You might suppose 

that to have a iJo note to spare was the greatest of all 

calamities, and a deposit in the Savings Bank an unpar- 
donable sin. You might imagine that the crown of hu- 
man felicity, the object by all means and at any cost to 
be obtained, was parish relief, and a habitation in the 



SATURDAY NIGHT. 215 

poor-house* To this, at all events, many are rapidly 
bringing themselves, with a zeal worthy of a better cause. 
There is a man, who has worked hard most of the week, 
and I perceive that he has received twenty-six shillings 
for his labor. But it is a heavy burden to him, poor fel- 
low ! He can carry three hundred weight with ease ; but 
to go home, a distance of one hundred and fifty yards, 
with such a load as twenty-six shillings, is more than he 
can do, with all his strength of bone and muscle ! If 
the money were red-hot, he could not be in a greater 
hurry to get it out of his hands ; he seems to have a per- 
fect horror of it. Yes, " A fool and his money are soon 
parted" is one of the best texts for a Saturday night's 
sermon ; for, within an hour of the receipt of their wages, 
ten thousand fools have parted with a considerable pro- 
portion of their wages. Something, at all events, must 
be spent ; it would be absurd, unnatural, monstrous to 
allow a Saturday night to pass unhonored by a single act 
of devotion at the shrine of Bacchus ! There is no god 
who has such faithful worshipers as he ; his temples are 
thronged, and his priests and priestesses can scarcely get 
through his laborious service on a Saturday night. By 
great numbers it is considered quite a matter of course 
that, however soberly the rest of the week has been spent, 
it ought to finish up in a drinking bout, and the temper- 
ance of the other evenings is rewarded by intemperance 
on Saturday night. In that jollity which leads a man 
to spend his money so freely, there is an appearance of 
generosity ; your tippler is for treating everybody, and 
cannot endure the shabbiness which buttons his pocket 
against the claims of good fellowship. But I do not 



216 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

know a more dis^ustinc: exhibition of selfishness than 
such men present ; they will meet together, and treat 
each other, and be most lavish of their money, while their 
own families are starving. Let such men remember that 
they ought to be just before they are generous; and that 
if they are just to their wives and children, they will 
never have a sixpence to spare for standing treat, and all 
that sort of nonsense. Saturday night, then, is to many 
a snare and a destruction. Perverted into a season of 
intemperate festivity, it brings no comfort to the homes 
of thousands ; it is disgraced by wild uproar and shame- 
ful extravagance, and want and misery follow in its train. 
And a misspent Saturday night leads, as a matter of 
course, to a misspent Sunday ; in fact, by many the Sun- 
day is valued chiefly on account of the leisure which it 
affords, to enable them to sleep off the effects of the Sat- 
in-day night's dissipation. Nor do the results end there ; 
the physical constitution often requires a portion, or the 
whole of Monday, to recover from the shock which it has 
received. The Saturday night's work necessitates a Mon- 
day morning's visit to the pawnbroker's, and thus many 
live on from week to week, their whole existence poisoned 
by the abuse of Saturday night. 

Happily, however, there are counteractives to these 
elements of evil, and dissipation, though extensive, is 
not the rule, but the exception, even on Saturday night. 
In this town, and in many Others, entertainments of an 
altogether unexceptionable character are provided for the 
people, and well supported by the people. Saturday 
evening concerts, cheap, to suit a working man's pocket, 
and good, to educate his taste, arc, as far as I can learn, 



SATURDAY NIGHT. 217 

raocessful, and highly successful, wherever they have 
been established ; and the low and disgusting free con- 
cert rooms, with their obscene songs and drunken per- 
formers, cannot compete with these genuine amusements, 
which, while they charm the ear, also refresh the heart. 
Much has been said of the power of music ; it has a mighty 
influence over our emotional nature ; it can cause the most 
melancholy countenance to brighten up ; it can compel 
tears to start from the eyes of the most hardened; it can 
disperse the sorrows that fill the heart of many a weary 
and care-worn fellow-mortal; but the greatest instance 
of its power is this, that it can draw men in multitudes 
from the scenes of uproar and dissipation ; that it can do 
much towards emptying the public-house on the Saturday 
night. 

The economical effect of these entertainments is worthy 
of notice, is one of their best features to a practical 
man. If we cannot estimate how much better a man is, 
intellectually and morally, through hearing some good 
song, some master-piece of musical composition, we can 
calculate within correct limits how much money these 
entertainments are the means of saving. It may fairly 
be assumed that two thousand men who attend a concert 
at threepence, would spend elsewhere, on an average, 
one shilling each at the very least, for one shilling is 
nowhere at the tavern. Here, then, we have a direct 
and positive saving of about <£75 for each such concert • 
and if to this we add the saving of a very large amount 
which Saturday's excess requires for Sunday, and the 
saving of time on Monday morning, we may, without 
fear of exggeration, assume that every such concert is a 



218 LECTURES FOR THE TEOPLE. 

saving of at least £100. I believe that every such 
concert in this hall keeps so much money in the people's 
pockets, preserves so much money for the people's com- 
fort ; and, at the rate of thirty-six concerts per annum, 
carried on as these have been for fourteen years, this 
single institution must have led to a saving of about 
<£50,000. But £50,000 are a bagatelle compared with 
the deliverance from moral degradation, from utter 
infamy, effected by these amusements on behalf of men, 
and, let me add, on behalf of women too. Nor has the 
cause of religion been the least partaker of the benefit ; 
in proportion as these concerts redeem Saturday night 
from vice, they redeem the Sunday from profanation. 
And in fact, on every account, economical, physical, 
moral, and religious, the Saturday evening concert, 
-wherever it is well conducted, is one of the very best 
institutions of the age. It is rapidly extending. Let us 
hope that it will extend far ; that it will find its way into 
every town, into every considerable village; that its value 
may be recognised by good men everywhere — so that, 
established over the length and breadth of our country, 
it may counteract the delusive charms of the tavern, draw 
multitudes from the dangerous and disgusting seenes of 
. till the people's hearts with rational delight, save 
the people's money in substantial millions sterling, purify 
the moral atmosphere of Saturday night, and minister 
mightily and constantly to the due observance of the 

I have n<> doubt that T am now addressing many who 
spend the Saturday evening, not in dissipation, but in 
the enjoyment of such amusements as those just noticed; 



SATURDAY NIGHT. 219 

end I hope that in doing this, they are not selfish, like the 
mere sensualist, but that they often afford the gratification 
of the concert to the members of their families. But if I 
may be permitted to say a word or two about amusements, 
I would observe that the passion for the most harmless 
amusements may be carried to a pernicious extreme. It 
is with much regret that I perceive, amongst young men 
generally, a disposition to take it for granted that their 
time should be divided between work and pleasure, and 
that the evening, Saturday evening in particular, is, as a 
matter of course, to be devoted to amusement. My dear 
young friends, there is something for us to do in our 
leisure, wiser, manlier, nobler, in all respects better, than 
to amuse ourselves, and engage in the preposterous and 
dreadful work of killing time. There is something weak, 
something effeminate, something contemptible, in this 
excessive love of pleasure, though the pleasure loved be 
neither expensive nor immoral. If, evening after evening, 
you crave after the excitements of public amusements, it 
is very evident that your intellectual and moral nature is 
in a deplorable state of weakness and disease. How are 
you to become intelligent as men of business, how are 
you to become wise as citizens of a great and free nation, 
how is your religious life to be developed, if those golden 
hours of leisure are to be frittered away in amusements ? 
It is not a sufficient apology to say that your recreations 
are harmless, that there is nothing in them that can 
shock the most fastidious virtue or offend the most 
earnest piety. These amusements do not fulfil the 
purpose of your life. When we become men, we should 
put away childish things, and bend our energies to 



220 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

earnest pursuits. Let Saturday evening, therefore, be 
sometimes spent in harmless pleasure, but not always. 
Set before yourselves some higher object than this, and 
let Saturday evening be oftcner devoted to the acquisition 
of substantial and profitable knowledge, and the exercise 
of your mental powers. Read, but do not read solely 
for amusement, as so many do ; read that you may 
become wiser, abler, better men. And there is another 
reason why the Saturday night should not be given solely 
to pleasure, however innocent, and it is this, that the 
Saturday night precedes that day which ought to be 
especially consecrated to the service of the Supreme 
Being. In some reflection upon this, and preparation 
for this, the Saturday evening will be most rationally and 
profitably spent. The sceptic may sneer at that exqui- 
site poem, one of the best that Burns ever wrote — " The 
Cottar's Saturday Night," in which the father of a family 
is represented as opening and turning over " the big ha' 
Bible," and reading to his assembled family 

" How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed, 
How he who bore in Heaven the Second name, 
Had not on earth whereon to lay his head. 

* * * * 

* * * * 
» * * * 

Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, 
The saint, the father, and the husband prays: 
Eope springs exulting on triumphant wing, 
That thus they all shall meet in future days; 
There ever bash in ancreated rays, 
No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear; 

jether singing their Creator's praise, 
In such society, hut still more dear, 
While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere." 



SATURDAY NIGHT. 221 

I say at this, the sceptic may sneer disdainfully ; hut 
such a mode of closing Saturday evening is worthy of 
every thoughtful man, who feels that it is his noblest 
privilege to worship God, and to commit himself and all 
the objects of his love to the Divine protection and mercy. 
Let not merely the Sabbath's rest from toil, but also the 
Sabbath's rest in God, be anticipated on the 'Saturday 
night. Oh ! what a picture of peace, of purity, of wisdom, 
of godliness, is that which Burns has drawn ; with what 
holy light the cottage shines, what happiness is depicted 
on every countenance ! Contrast with this, the drunk- 
ard's Saturday night, its uproar, its wastefulness, its 
profanity, its stupefaction. Contrast with this, an even- 
ing of mere amusement, with its poor frivolities. My 
friends, you feel that there is a grandeur about that 
cottage scene ; that there you see the best way of finishing 
the week, and preparing for the day of rest ; and if it be 
so, why not adopt that way, and make it yours ? Would 
that in every home, whether the cottage of the poor, the 
mansion of the rich, or the palace of the noble, such a 
scene were oftener witnessed ; so that everywhere the 
Saturday night be closed, not in shouts of revelry, but in 
songs of praise ; not in the language of raging and 
ruffianly blasphemy, but in the calm and holy accents of 
thankfulness and prayer. Let it not be supposed that I 
object to such harmless recreations as I have noticed, for 
I have expressed my high approval of them ; but at the 
same time I plead for something more earnest, more 
manly, more progressive, more worthy of us as intelligent 
beings, who cannot think of regarding amusement as the 
main purpose of existence, and cannot afford to give to 



222 LECTURES FOB THE TEOPLE. 

amusement all our leisure, or even any considerable 
portion of it ; and I plead for the rational recognition of 
the goodness of Him who has preserved as through the 
week, and with the prospect of whose sacred day, W6 
bring the Saturday to a close. 

There is one other aspect in which the Saturday night 
may be regarded by us. It seems to be typical of the 
close of life, when we shall all rest from our labors. 
And if Saturday be the reckoning time between master 
and man, it may remind us of that period when the 
Great Master of us all shall reckon with his servants, 
and give to each according as his work shall be. What 
are we to receive, what can we rationally look for, as the 
wages of our work of life ? Let us see. What have we 
done in the way of serving God, in the way of obeying 
his laws, and honoring his will ? I am afraid that we 
have done nothing, or that, whatever we may have earned 
by occasional obedience, we have lost by systematic 
disobedience. The best man, if he reflects, will have to 
admit that God is his creditor, not his debtor ; that God 
in his Providence has already rewarded him far beyond 
his deserts; that, instead of wages, lie must rather expect 
a heavy fine on the Saturday night of life. But happily, 
God's ways are not as our ways, nor his thoughts as our 
thou-dits. He has promised not to deal with us according 
to our sins, not to reward us according to our iniquities, 
lie has shown OS 

« How guiltless blood For guilty man was shed," 

and reminds us that it' we trust in Iliin whose guiltless 
blood was shed, that debt we owe him, however large, 



SATURDAY NIGHT. 223 

shall be freely and forever blotted from his book, and 
remembered against us no more. I clo not know bow 
you feel, my friends, in the contemplation of that Satur- 
day night which shall bring us face to face with Him, 
whose we are, and whom, all our life long, we ought to 
serve. Possibly you may think that you have done 
something worthy of a great recompense, exercised self- 
denial, endured suffering, done deeds of charity and 
usefulness which merit some acknowledgment from God ; 
but do not accuse me of mock humility, do not suspect 
me of hypocritical self-disparagement, when I say most 
solemnly that I can entertain no such hope for myself; 
that I am but an unprofitable servant, and deserve nothing 
more than I have already received, nor anything like so 
much as that ; and if you talk of wages, the Saturday 
night of life will be to me what a common Saturday night 
is to the man who has been wasting his time all the week. 
But I do not on this account despair of that Saturday 
night. I think of that "guiltless blood," and in the 
sacrifice of Christ I find a source of hope. I have not 
earned heaven by my efforts to abstain from sin and to 
do good ; but I know of one who earned it for all who 
trust in him — who earned it "by his agony and bloody 
sweat, by his cross and passion, by his precious death 
and burial, by his glorious resurrection and ascension." 
Oh ! it was dearly, nobly earned, when He who " was 
rich, for our sakes became poor, that we through his 
poverty might be rich." My friends, I have no right to 
pronounce any of you vicious ; I am bound to suppose 
that many, very many, I would hope all of my hearers, 
are sober, chaste, truthful, humble, generous — in one 



224 LECTURES FOR TIIE FEOPLE. 

word, virtuous men. Be it so, but I think you will agree 
with me that, when God reckons with you on the Satur- 
day night of life, those virtues will be found to have 
ived an abundant recompense in this world, and thai 
there are no wages, absolutely none, due to you; and 
therefore I invite you, whatever be your virtues, or 
whatever your vices, to unite with me in confiding in that 
Saviour, whose obedience and sufferings do afford us a 
reasonable ground of trust. And so, when the final 
Saturday night is closing round us, when the implements 
of toil shall be forever laid aside, and the workshop shall 
be returned to no more, when the death-bell shall ring us 
out of this world of labor and of sin, though no reward 
of merit may await us, there will be the better reward 
of grace; and that everlasting Sabbath, of which all 
earthly Sabbaths are the type, the earnest, and the 
promise, shall dawn in heavenly glory on our souls, and 
dawn never to fade away ! 



there's nae luck about the house. 225 



LECTURE XII 



THERE S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE. 

The motto of my address, this afternoon, is taken 
from an old song, and a good old song too, which a wor- 
thy Scotchwoman sings, as, in anticipation of her hus- 
band's return home after a long absence, she feels that 
" there is no luck about the house while her good man's 
away." In a manner somewhat different from this I am 
going to apply the good Scotchwoman's words. I am 
afraid that there are a great many people, both men and 
women, both parents and children, who have to say most 
ruefully, " There is no luck about the house," unless 
indeed it be very bad luck, and of this there is plenty. 
But by luck we generally understand good luck, comfort, 
happiness, prosperity, plenty, unless the contrary is 
specified. Strictly speaking, luck is either good or bad, 
for luck is that which befals a man. It may be one 
person's luck to win ,£1000, another man's luck to lose 
as large a sum ; but we almost always attach a favorable 
meaning to the word when we use it by itself. How the 
word luck, which originally is as applicable to unfavora- 
ble as to favorable circumstances, has almost, if not alto- 
gether, lost the former meaning, I do not know. The 
15 



LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

! process has taken place with regard to the words 
tune— t icb, like luck, are in 

to evil circumstanc 

good; while just the opposite process has taken place 

rd to the word a -another neutral term, 

generally used in a Lad sense. But, not 

to spend more time on these enquiries, though luck was 

a neutral word, it is such no longer; it has lost its 

unfavorable sense ; and so when we say that there is no 

luck about the house, we mean that there is no comfort, 

no prosperity, about the house. To ascertain why there 

is no luck about so many houses, and to show how these 

] 3ss houses might be lucky, is what I shall try to do 

on the present occasion. 

But let me first say a word or two upon what I con- 
\- m connection with what we 

call luck, and that is, the notion that luck, good luck, 

(inesSj pr —call it what you please 

altogether or v. tly a matter of chance, or 

■thing to which one man is destined, and from which 

istible fate. This idea pro- 

v of a prosperous man 

k'sway." "Give a man luck, 

says an old proverb; that 

, TC are wh -e fate it is to prosper, who 

:. no matter in what unfavorable 

i matter what they do, 

from doing. I do not know whence 

arisen, but I 

that it has its source in idleness, imbe- 

nd envy. An idle man does not like to admit 



there's nae luck about the house. 



227 



no. 

ce 



that his prosperous fellow-tradesman owes his success to 
his industry, for this would be a reflection upon his own 
indolence; a brainless fellow is unwilling to allow that 
the man who gets on is at all cleverer than himself; and 
the envious man will not give his advancing neighbor 
credit for a single good property. So the idle, the im- 
becile, and the envious agree that it is not talent ; i 
it is all luck ; « Only give us the same chance, and L 
whether we don't get on equally well. There's So-and 
so, the draper, or Mr. Such-a-one, the builder; why 
there's nothing in him ; he is a great thickhead ; but 
somehow or other he has made his .£20,000; it is more 
by good luck than good management; circumstances 
have favored him ; small thanks to him for getting on— 
he could hardly help it." Whatever may have been the 
origin of this idea of luck, which regards it as something 
superhuman and mysterious, or as a matter of incalcula^ 
ble chance, it is, I firmly believe, altogether incorrect, 
and exceedingly mischievous. The causes of one man's 
success and of another's unsuccess are not mysterious, 
they can be discovered ; are not accidental, they can be 
calculated. Certainly there is 

" A divinity that shapes our ends, 
Rough hew them how we will," 
or, as the proverb says, "Man proposes, God disposes;" 
and many of the best laid schemes of mortals strangely 
fail, and, contrary to all expectation and calculation, 
come to nothing; but usually the Divinity that shapes 
our ends shapes them in accordance to laws known or 
knowable ; and God, in disposing human events, in dis- 
posing them according to his sovereign will, does so, ne- 



228 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

verthelcss, in no fitful or capricious manner, but in con- 
formity with great principles, which wise men will study, 
and, studying, will understand. Nor do I deny the force, 
the prodigious force, of external circumstances, which 
sometimes render good luck impossible, or all but impossi- 
ble; yet circumstances, though powerful, are not omnipo- 
tent, and, at all events, there are very few whose circum- 
stances are so desperately unfavorable as to render all good 
luck impossible. I must therefore beg of you never to 
allow yourself to suppose that your welfare is not m 
your own hands — that you will be either lucky or un- 
lucky according to the incalculable caprices of chance, 
or the arbitrary decrees of fate. Your character, not 
decrees, your conduct, not fate, will determine your luck; 
and if there is no luck about your house, I would advise 
you to enquire, carefully, why such is the state of the 
case. 

If there be luck about your house, in your house, in 
all the events of your life, comfort, happiness, prosperity, 
even all that heart can wish, I much rejoice in the fact. 
I have no doubt that such a state of thin-sis the re- 
sult, in a great measure, of talent, diligence, temperance, 
Belf-denial, and general conformity with moral law. Bat 
] rl Q ■ the architects of 

our good Fortune. Perhaps v. Lch to our parents 

, — perha] ir friends; and 1 am sure 

t ] 1:: our heavenly Father* 

j ir b • tne intellect, 

thai have led 
to succ ■ are his gifts; and if external circum- 

Btances have been Favorable, it is lie who arranged these 



there's nae luck about the house. 229 

circumstances for us, and placed us in the midst of them. 
A man who has made his way, and struggled bravely with 
difficulties, pursued successfully some well beaten track, 
or, exercising his ingenuity, made a sure path for him- 
self, may with an honest pride think of his career; but 
that honest pride should ever be tempered by that hum- 
ble thankfulness which recognises the Supreme Being as 
the fountain of all happiness. " Every good gift, and 
every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from 
the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness nei- 
ther shadow of turning." Had his sustaining hand been 
withdrawn, had your health given way, or your intellect 
been deranged, where would have been the prosperity, 
the comforts that now surround you ? where your power 
to accumulate the blessings of this life ? In all our luck, 
in all our success, let our hearts gratefully adore his 
goodness, for we must all feel that " except the Lord 
build the house, they labor in vain that build it, except 
the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in 
vain!" While I am prepared to oppose, and to oppose 
to the utmost, the idea of the idle, the imbecile, and the 
envious man, which is that luck is a matter of chance or 
of destiny, and altogether beyond the sphere of human 
influence, altogether independent of character and con- 
duct, I would just as strenuously oppose, as little better 
than atheistic, the opposite extreme, which ascribes 
everything to man's effort, and refuses to recognise the 
superintending care and providence of God. 

But, while hoping that many of my hearers are able 
to say, cheerfully and thankfully, that, notwithstanding 
the badness of the times, and the hard struggles of life, 



230 LECTURES FOE THE PEOPLE. 

there is some luck about their houses, some success, some 

rt, I canno* but fear that I 
many oth ate is most exactly describe 

Is of the old song; and many more who, if they do 
not take good heed to their ways, will one day feel that 
"there is no luck about the house." If we can point out 
some of the chief causes of this lucklessness, we may be 
doing a service both to those who now experience it, and to 
those who arc evidently on the way to it. That there may 
be luck, good luck, the best luck, about every ►use, 

and all through every man's house, is my hearty desire ; 
and I think that this is possible for many men, for most 
men, if not for all. Of course, if luck meant money 
only, I could not reasonably cherish such a belief; for 
no such state of society can be devised as shall make all 
men rich and independent of labor. But luck means 
happiness in all its elements, and wealth is not an essen- 
tial element of happiness. The wealth may be great 
and the Luck small ; the wealth may be Y I the 

luck great; for "a man's life consisteth nol in the 
abundance of the things that he po ;" i ad " 

ter ia a dinner of where love is. tailed ox 

and hatr nth." 

Well, i y, "There is no luck about my 

•; I am ; everything 

: I can't pav 

d to 

tfort; 'Heme, 

swe, home is anything 

but sweet; »w to make it so? Can you 

show me how 1 may have luck about my house?" I 



there's nae luck about the house. 231 

will try to do so ; but I must bespeak your kind forbear- 
ance. In pointing out the causes of bad luck, I may 
not describe your case-, I may notice mistakes which you 
have not made ; now, if the cap does not fit, I do not 
at all wish you to wear it. Some of the caps which I 
shall ask you to try on may fit, with a little alteration, 
which you can make yourself. If none of them are at 
all near the mark, if they are all too Large or too small, 
reject them; but the caps which I shall mention do fit a 
great number of people, this I am sure of; but the worst 
of it is, that the man whom the cap of rebuke and cor- 
rection fits best is generally the man who most loudly 
protests that it does not fit him at all; and when a man 
angrily says, "These remarks don't apply to me," I 
always take it for granted that they are only too appli- 
cable. 

" There is no luck about the house." There are some 
houses about which it would be foolish to look for luck ; 
some about which luck is impossible, near which luck 
will not come; at all events there is one element of luck, 
and a very important element too — health — that fights 
shy of a great many houses. Of such houses there is a 
large number in every town, and in our town as great a 
proportion, perhaps, as anywhere else in England ; 
bouses that are badly contrived and badly constructed, 
badly ventilated and badly drained, houses that are 
crowded together to the exclusion of light and air, 
houses that are built in the immediate neighborhood of 
works and factories that give forth offensive odors and 
unwholesome vapors, houses that from the cellar to the 
garret are crammed with men, women, and children, a 



232 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

family in each room, and ever so many lodgers beside; 
houses of this description are not likely to have much 
luck about them, the marvel is that they can even have 
human life about them. I am only too well aware that 
great multitudes arc compelled to inhabit such miserable 
dens, that the wages of their daily toil, — would that it 
were daily, but, poor fellows ! daily toil would be to them 
a luxury, they can get work only two or three days in a 
week, perhaps not so often, — but I am only too well 
aware that the wages of their daily toil, when it really is 
daily, are insufficient to command a healthier home. At 
the same time, while deeply sympathising with such men, 
I cannot but notice the fact, that many workmen who 
are, or who ought to be, in the receipt of high wages, 
occupy such miserable abodes. Perhaps there is no luck- 
about your house because it is unhealthy, damp, dark, 
close, unprovided with such accommodation as is indis- 
pensable to sound health; and if you do not suffer, the 
members of your family do, and will, as long as they 
remain there. Now, see whether you cannot get out of 
that house, which bad luck, in the shape of bad health, 
has marked for its own, and which I trust society, in its 
sanitary progress, will one day mark for destruction; to 
escape may be impossible in sonic cases, but very possible 
in others. Make the attempt, try whether you cannot, 
by a wise economy, remove into such a house as luck- 
may find it possible to live in. 

"There is no luck about the house." Well, it is not 
likely that there should be luck about any house if the 
head of the h in the habit of drinking to excess. 

Luck and intemperance are .sworn foes. An old proverb 



there's nae luck about the house. 238 

says, " When poverty comes in at the door, love flies out 
at the window." This is not always true, for many a 
poor man's house is a-scene of harmony, peace, and love. 
Poor men love their wives, and are loved by their wives, 
love their children, and are loved by their children, as 
affectionately as rich men, and often more so ; but I would 
propose a modification of this proverb which I am sure 
is true — When drink comes in at the door, luck flies out 
at the window. " There is no luck about the house." 
No ! not if the occupant spends a large portion of his 
wages and his time at the tavern ; not if he goes off on 
the spree ; not if he associates with riotous and dissolute 
companions ; under such circumstances there can be no 
luck about any man's house, whatever be his talents, 
whatever be his income, and whatever be his opportuni- 
ties of success; luck has renounced him, and will re- 
nounce him, until he mends his manners and reforms his 
ways. I have seen, and you have seen luck in many a 
house, abiding there, smiling there, making everything 
so comfortable there for a time, until the head of the 
house, in an evil hour, forsook the steady ways of sobri- 
ety, and then luck was off — packed up all its traps, 
stripped the house bare, and departed ; promising, how- 
ever, to return, if the drunkard would become a sober 
man again. 

Did you ever hear the word husband explained ? It 
means literally the band of the house, the support of it, 
the person who keeps it together, as a band keeps to- 
gether a sheaf of corn. There are many married men 
who are not husbands, because they are not the band of 
the nouse. Truly in many cases the wife is the husband 



I HE PEOPLE. 

for in many c who by her prudence and thrift 

and economy keeps the house together. The married 
man who by his dissolute habits strips his house of ail 
comfort is not a husband; in a legal sense he is, hut in 
no other, for he is not a house-band; instead of kee] 
things together, he scatters them amongst the pawn 
xs. Gin lias been honored with many names, but 
best that I have seen is a very old one, at least a hun- 
1 years old, and it is this, " Strip me naked." This 
is what is sold over the counter of the gin palace. Gla 
of " strip me naked !" If any man is in the habit of fre- 
quenting such places, let him remember this. He will 
probably see there evidences of the truth of this designa- 
tion — men, women, and children whom gin has nearly 
stripped naked, and whose squalid appearance presents 
an extraordinary contrast to the splendor of the painted, 
gilded, gas-lit palace. Certainly, if people will have gin, 
"strip me naked," they can't expect to find much 
luck about their house. These remarks may not apply 
to any one present. I do not say that they are applica- 
ble; but I am sure of this, that the cap which I have 
shown you fits a great many heads ; or, to change the 
metaphor, this is a shoe that pinches a great many feet. 
And if tin 1 question be asked. Why is there no luck about 
this house, and that house, and the other house, aye, and 
ten thousand more? am 1 not righl — do I not state the 
plain unvarnished fact, and is not this the English of it? 
— th< i luck about these houses, because their oc- 

cupants : !<li given to intoxicating liquors. 

"There is no luck about the house." No; it is not 
\- that fchere should be luck about it, if the wife is a 



there's xae luck about tiie house. 235 

thriftless, idle, gadding gossip. The husband may be 
sober, steady, industrious, and in the receipt of capital 
wages ; but I should dike to know what amount of wages 
would be too great for an idle and intemperate wife to 
make away with. I have spoken of the etymology of 
the word husband — the band of the house ; and from this 
etymology every married man may learn that it is his 
duty, as a husband, to exert his diligence to keep the 
house together. And now let us see whether the word 
wife has not a lesson too. It literally means a weaver. 
The wife is the person who weaves. Before our great 
cotton and cloth factories arose, one of the principal em- 
ployments in every house was the fabrication of clothing ; 
every family made its own. The wool was spun into 
thread by the girls, who were therefore called spinsters ; 
the thread was woven into cloth by their mother, who ac- 
cordingly was called the weaver, or the wife ; and another 
remnant of this old truth we discover in the word heir- 
loom, applied to any old piece of furniture which has 
come down to us from our ancestors, and which, though 
it may be a chair, or a bed, shows that a loom was once 
a most important article in every house. Thus the word 
wife means weaver ; and, as Trench well remarks, " in 
the word itself is wrapped up a hint of earnest, in-door, 
stay-at-home occupations, as being fitted for her who 
bears this name." . The days of weaving at home are 
past and gone. Even the old spinning-wheel, which we 
used to see so often in the cottages of the peasantry, and 
to hear humming the live-long day, is almost obsolete. 
The mill and the power-loom have taken the place of the 
homely machinery of former times, rendering this descrip- 



236 LECTl RES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

tion of occupation needless and unremimerative in private 
houses. But though that form of domestic industry ex- 
ists no L principle is not transitory. The wife 
iver, the spinsters no longer spin; but 
there are home duties to " led to, that ought 
• all the better attended to, inasmuch as spinning and 
weaving have been dispensed with, have been taken from 
the cottage to the factory. And there is no luck about 
many a house, ' ause those home duties are not dis- 
charged ; because the wife, in putting away her loom, 
and ceasing to be a weaver, has lost the weaver's charac- 
ter as well as the weaver's occupation — has lost the in- 
dustry, the stay-at-home and work-at-home spirit which 
iguished her i sat at the loom all day, and 
when, as Solomon says. " she sought wool and flax, and 
■ illingly with her hands — when she laid her hands 
e spindle, and her hands held the distaff — when she 
not afraid of the snow, for all her household were 
doubly clothed." No; there can be no luck about the 
• if the wife is a si and a gossip; if the house 
wr'i wash I and well swept; if the hearth is not 
clean, and the Ere not kept bright; if the food is 
not well cooked, and the clothes are not carefully mended; 
sntion is no, paid to ;ill those little items of house- 
hold comfort, which r<>;-;n . 30 very large, an elc- 
1 wry in : Luck will not dw< 11 with 
k; and luck I rong an objection to dwell- 
Aiih dirt, ftp. Again you 
"These remarks don't apply to me; my wife is as tidy 
and industrious a woman 1 w>re a wedding-ring. 
T rejoice to bear ir, my friend; and if she is what you 



there's nab luck about the house. 237 

say, which I have no manner of inclination to doubt — if 
she is what you say, and if you are sober and industrious, 
I should be very much surprised to learn that, notwith- 
standing all, there is no luck about your house. ~No .; 
these remarks apply to none of your wives. But it's no 
use pretending, you know, that every wife is a pattern of 
tidiness and thrift, an angel in the house. I wish it were 
the fact ; but it is not ; and in many a house the secret 
of its lucklessness, if that secret must be told, is, that 
the husband's industry is not backed by the wife's atten- 
tion to home duties. 

"There is no luck about the house." Well, luck 
there cannot be, if men, and women too, will be extrava- 
gant. And extravagance has many forms, and exists 
amongst persons of all classes. There are extravagant 
noblemen, who have mortgaged their estates, who are 
obliged to live cheaply on the continent, and there is no 
luck about their houses, princely and magnificent as 
many of them are. There are extravagant merchants, 
who live in great splendor, and all manner of good luck 
seems to surround their houses until a crash comes, and 
then the hollowness of such a life is seen. There are 
extravagant tradesmen, who live far beyond their means ; 
and I ought not to deny, and will not deny, that there 
are extravagant clergymen, of all denominations, who 
have not paid for their black coats, and who would 
choose any text to preach from, rather than those words 
of the Apostle, "Owe no man any thing." But extrava- 
gance finds its way into the dwelling of working men, 
too. Do not be offended with me, my operative brothers; 
am not I just as much a working man as any of you? I 



238 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

am not become your enemy because I tell you the truth, 
and the truth is, that many of our hard working men 
are exceedingly extravagant, many who, perhaps, are 
not guilty of the extravagance of intoxicating drink. In 
the worst times they contrive to live on what they get, 
in the best times they manage to spend every cent of 
their wages, partly, I admit, in honorably paying the 
debts contracted in the period of depression, but partly 
also in needless and culpable waste ; in food more luxu- 
rious than is necessary, in finery of dress, in costly 
amusements, and in various other ways, money that 
might be lodged in the savings bank is squandered, and 
hence "there is no luck about the house." Well, you 
tell me that this is not your case; you and your wife 
are a saving and economical couple ; you make every 
shilling go as far as possible. Be thankful that is so ; 
and it my remarks don't apply to you, pass them by, 
my friend, and continue in your thrifty and economical 
course, and may God bless you and your thrifty wife, 
and give you happiness and peace. 

"There is no luck about the house." AVhat, a house 
healthily situated, a house in which there is sobriety and 
industry on the husband's part, tidiness and staying at 
home part, economy on the part of both, 

and still no li I the house, no comfort, no happi- 

■! Bow is this? Let me point out another enemy 
luck. It is not likely that there will be luck 
• peevishness, bad temper, and 
quarreling. These things poison all the springs of do- 
mestic life, ami render lurk, happiness, comfort impossi- 
ble, though the master of the house be in the receipt of 



there's nae luck about the house. 239 

,£10,000 a year. Drink, dirt, extravagance all drive 
luck away, and discord in the house produces the same 
effect. It is not strange that there is no luck about the 
house, when the wife attacks the husband and the hus- 
band beats the wife, or when, refraining from these 
extremes, they are surly, sour, snappish, snarling in 
their remarks, or preserve a moody or ill tempered si- 
lence, broken only by growls. No ; each must try to 
bear the other's infirmities, and to outlive and outgrow 
his or her own ; remembering that, in the words of the 
sacred writer, " a soft answer turneth away wrath, but 
grievous words stir up anger." "Husbands, love your 
wives, and be not bitter against them. Wives, submit 
yourselves unto your own husbands, as it is fit in the 
Lord." A little consideration, a little patience, a little 
forbearance will do wonders in the course of time. But 
certainly all jarring and discord in the house will drive 
luck away from it. Again I say, that my remarks may 
not apply to any man or woman present ; but still, in 
enumerating the chief causes which produce lucklessness 
about the house, and make people's lives so burdensome 
and sad, I cannot but notice this. For in how many 
cases does the unmanly conduct of the husband spoil the 
wife's temper, break her heart, and drive her to intem- 
perate habits ; and on the other hand, in how many in- 
stances does the violent, vixenish disposition of the wife 
compel the miserable husband to find his refuge from 
her clattering and abusive tongue in the comparative 
quiet of the public-house ! 

"There is no luck about the house." No, there can- 
not be if the children are not properly trained. And 



2-10 LECTURES FOR THE TEOPLE. 

here we find another prolific source of lucklessness. 
That boy is allowed to have his own way ; he is never 
chastised at all, or chastised in an unreasonably severe 
and brutal manner; his education is neglected; he is 
allowed to form his own companionships, and to spend 
the Sunday in the streets or in the fields. That girl is 
not instructed in household duties, not taught to be neat 
and cleanly, not checked in her natural passion for finery; 
and what with disobedient sons and slatternly daughters, 
comfort in the house is an impossibility. " Train them 
up in the way they should go," "in the nurture and ad- 
monition of the Lord," in habits of obedience, of dili- 
gence, of cleanliness, of honesty, of piety, and you will 
find that children, instead of being a burden and a curse 
(at which sad conclusion many have arrived), "are a 
heritage and gift that cometh of the Lord, like as the 
arrows in the hand of the giant, and happy is the man 
thai hath hia quiver full of them." But of course such 
training implies, as its chief element, parental example 
on both the father's and mother's side. We are the 
educators of our children; we, far more than school- 
ers, and we b; sample, more than by our pre- 
h is all in vain that the old crah says to the 
youn "Why do you walk so crooked, child? walk 
straight." 1 ten is the young orab to walk straight, with 
such an example continually before it. 

"There is no luck about the house!" Well, permit 

to ask how the Sunday is observed at your house; is 
it a day "I' idleness, of pleasure-taking, of feasting, and 
of dissipation, <>r a day of rest from toil, and of holy 

ipation? For although I do not sympathise with 



there's nae luck about the house. 241 

those wlio would condemn a man who has been shut up 
in a shop all the week for walking forth into the country 
on some part of the Sunday, to breathe the fresh air, 
which he cannot get in the heart of a great and crowded 
city, still I regard it as a Divine command that a seventh 
portion of our time should be kept holy, and the right ob- 
servance of this day I consider essential to our comfort. 
If it is spent in dissipation, the physical benefit of it is 
lost, it proves deeply injurious, and the result often is 
that men lose time, money, and situations through this 
cause. I do not know that there is anything which more 
commonly leads to a man's being discharged from work 
than the irregularity arising from a Sunday of pleasure- 
taking. But you do not spend the Sunday so. You are 
a sober man, and you spend the Sunday in a rational 
way. But what is that rational way ? The most ra- 
tional that I know of is to spend it in quiet and serious 
reflection, in the company of our wives and children, in 
cheerful but not frivolous conversation, and in the public 
worship of Almighty God. Thus the Sunday will prove 
a day of refreshment to both body and soul, a day of 
rest, a day of instruction, and of profit too; a day on 
which, if you think of it, you may earn in the form of 
wisdom and knowledge something more valuable than 
the wages of a working day, something that will be of 
service to you on the working day, and help you, guide 
you, strengthen you amid the temptations and the trials 
of life. I shall not attempt to trace the connection be- 
tween misspent Sundays and every kind of bad luck. I 
hope that I am free from all superstition on this matter, 
when I say that such a connection does exist. I appeal 
16 



242 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

to the testimony of facts, and facts assure me that thou- 
sands of unfortunate and unhappy men have themselves 

ared that their ruin can be traced to misspent Sun- 
as its source. In this there is nothing mysterious. 
If the day that is set apart for rest, for instruction, 
for worship, is given to fully and to sin, the mas 

■ I of the rest and the instruction, and of all 
blessings which the worship of God secures, must needs 
stand at a disadvantage, and no wonder if there is no 
luck about his house. I leave it to the most careless and 
godless man to say, whether the abuse of the day of rest 
and worship is not likely to have a most injurious effect 
upon himself and upon his family. 

" There is no luck about the house." I do not think 
that there will be, or that there ought to be any luck about 
the house of a man who does not recognise the authority 
of God, and pray for his blessing upon himself, his family, 
and his business. Is it not a reasonable thing that the 
Divine Source of all happiness should be gratefully adored, 
and that we should pul ourselves under the protection of 
him in whose hands is the disposal of all events, and the 
SOVer< ign control of all circumstances that can affect us, 
favorably or otherwise? I do not say that we should 
serve G-o >ral advantage; if we 

q with no better motive bh hall serve 

in vain; but, at the same time, irreligion is the main 
cause of the lucklessness of which so many houses are 
the scene. True godliness must be based on better 
groun.U than the expectation of secular good; yet that 
seeular good is one of the gifts of godliness is certain. 
Godliness, fostering as it does every virtuous principle, 



there's nae luck about the house. 243 

requiring temperance and chastity, diligence and pru- 
dence, truthfulness and integrity, forms the character 
that can scarcely fail of commanding a good share of 
what men call "luck." "Blessed is every one that fear- 
eth the Lord, that walketh in his ways ; for thou shalt 
eat the labor of thy hands, happy shalt thou be, and it 
shall be well with thee." 

If, then, instead of dirt there is cleanliness, instead of 
drunkenness sobriety, instead of idleness industry, in- 
stead of confusion order, instead of extravagance economy, 
instead of discord peace, instead of parental neglect pa- 
rental care and discipline, instead of misspent Sundays 
Sundays consecrated to physical rest and religious wor- 
ship, instead of ungodliness the fear and the love of God, 
the house in which these abide must needs have luck about 
it ; and its happy occupants, living in peace, in comfort, 
in plenty, will never have to utter the complaint which 
forms the motto of this lecture. And now, in conclusion 
let me say from my heart, "The Lord prosper you; I 
wish you good luck in the name of the Lord." 



244 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 



LECTURE XIII. 

THE ROAD TO HELL 
IS PAYED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS. 

"Is there a hell?" asks one; "or is not all that we 
are told about it the creation of superstitious fears, or 
the invention of a cunning and self-interested priestcraft? 
If there be a God at all, surely he will not be so hard 
upon us as to condemn us to endless misery, because we 
don't do exactly the right thing in this world?" Many 
persons are very unwilling to believe in a hell ; but they 
arc generally persons who have good reason to dread 
such a belief; for their consciences tell them that if there 
be such a place, or such a state, they are candidates for 
admission whose claims will never be disputed. If we 
trace the history of this belief, however, we shall find 
that it has not been entertained by superstitious people 
alone, bul by the wisest and the best men of every age, 
ians; and this fact ought of itself 
to Bhake the unbelief of tl -t and most hardened, 

and most intelligent sceptic, lie may be very wise; but 
if bo, then he knows very well that far wiser men than 
he have believed in the future punishment of sin. He 
may be a very able reasoner; but he will surely admit 
that abler reasoners than himself have arrived at conclu- 



ROAD TO HELL PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS. 245 

sions exactly opposite to those at which he has arrived. 
Perhaps you say, "I don't intend to pin my faith to any 
man's sleeve ; I don't care what conclusions others have 
arrived at; I will Confide in the exercise of my private 
judgment, and think for myself." Very well; think for 
yourself by all means; but remember, the man who 
always confides in his own judgment, must be immensely 
conceited, and will probably soon bring himself to grief. 
Perhaps the next time you are very ill, you will exercise 
your private judgment, call in no medical man, and do 
the doctoring yourself; and if ever you are so unfortunate 
as to have a dispute that brings you into a court of law, 
though your opponent secures the ablest counsel, you 
will rely on your private judgment, plead your own 
cause, and have, what a well-known proverb tells you 
you will have, for your client. Or, if you have to buy a 
horse, you will ask no man's opinion, but confide in your 
own judgment— a very dangerous experiment, I should 
say, for most men. Perhaps, though you have never 
been at sea in your life, you are prepared, in reliance 
upon that infallible judgment of yours, to take a ship to 
any part of the world. The fact is, that we do not in one 
matter out of a thousand confide in our own judgment, 
but in the judgment of others ; and the soundest conclu- 
sion of private judgment is this, to be guided by the men 
who are most likely to be best informed upon this, that, 
or the other question, whether it be commercial, scientific, 
historical, or theological. A sound and sensible private 
judgment will in many things, and in most things of 
great importance and difficulty, be distrustful of itself, 
and feci that there are other judgments more worthy of 



246 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

confidence ; and therefore I submit if many of the wisest 

and best men, if nearly all the truly wise and good men 

ery age, with all their differences of opinion upon 

. have unanimously agreed in the belief of a 

future state of retribution, this fact claims every man's 

tectful attention; and no one who wishes to have 

.it for good sense, will say that the belief in a hell is 

nothing more than a superstition, or an invention of 

priestcraft. 

The question, Is there a hell ? resolves itself into this, 
Is there a moral governor of the world ? Is there a 
moral law ? Is there such a thing as sin ? For if there 
he, then there is such a thing as punishment for sin, and 
that punishment, whatever form it assume, may be desig- 
nated hell. Yes ; there is sin, and there is punishment 
for sin, punishment which we often witness, which falls 
upon many a man before he leaves this world. The 
and ruin which are so often the consequences 
of a dishonest life, and even of some one dishonest act, 
the poverty of the idler and the drunkard, the shattered 
health of the profligate, are instances of the manne 
which Bin is punished even in the presenl life. But still, 
for all Bin such a reckoning in this world as 
■ >• claims of righteous i justice. T" 

many men whose evil doings pass undetected and 
unpunished, v\\<>\\\ neither the laws of man nor the laws 
of nature can reach. There 'nave been many tyrants in 
the world, who shed much innocent blood, but whom no 
reance ever overtook on earth. "Murder will out," 
the proverb j bul if by this is meant that murder 
will in every case be discovered by man, the proverb is 



ROAD TO HELL PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS. 247 

altogether false, for we have known many cases of most 
atrocious murders, the perpetrators of which have not 
been found out, notwithstanding all the efforts of the 
police. In fact, when we take into our account the 
numbers of infant children found dead, and who appear 
to have died by unfair means, I should say that the 
greater number of murders remain in mystery. 

Again, let me ask, what punishment is inflicted on the 
seducer, whose crime is even greater than that of the 
murderer ? And there are thousands of dishonest men, 
who, by their fraudulent dealing, come to great wealth, 
and live in splendor, and "they are not in trouble as 
other men, neither are they plagued as other men ; 
therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain ; vio- 
lence covereth them as a garment ; their eyes stand out 
with fatness; they have more than heart can wish." 
" The tabernacles of robbers prosper ; and they that 
provoke God are secure, into whose hand God bringeth 
abundantly." "Wherefore doth the way of the wicked 
prosper ; wherefore are all they happy that deal very 
treacherously ?" To say that such men — the tyrant, who 
has trampled all law beneath his feet ; the murderer, who 
escapes detection ; the seducer, whose crime is treated 
with such leniency, and scarcely considered a crime at 
all ; the robber, whose robbery happens to be legal, or, 
if illegal, is dexterously concealed — to say that such 
men are punished by the stings of conscience, is ridicu- 
lous. If conscience have so little power as to deter from 
wrong-doing, depend upon it, it has but little power to 
punish when the wrong is done. History records the 
names and deeds of thousands of men, cruel, blood- 



248 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

thirsty, treacherous, who, as far as we can see, suffered 
little or nothing in this world, and certainly suffered no- 
thing that could he regarded as the just reward of their 
atrocious deeds. But besides these rascals on a grand 
. whose scoundrelism was so remarkable as to be- 
come matter of historical record, there have always been 
far greater numbers of more obscure sinners who have 
prospered in their wickedness, and gone down to their 
graves in peace, experiencing, even in the prospect of 
death, no avenging terrors, no retributive remorse. And 
do you not feel that such men ought to be punished ? 
that, if they go unpunished it is wrong ? Our sense of 
justice cries out for the punishment of such men. There 
is no moral government of the world if they are not 
judged for their evil deeds, if they are allowed quietly 
to go down to the grave and become extinct. Vice is 
connived at, and virtue is discouraged, if there be 
no future retribution ; and in fact, if there be no hell, 
there ought to be one, most decidedly. Hell a supersti- 
tion ! Nay: it is what our sense of right demands, it 
i< what our reason considers in the highest degree pro- 
bable. 

So far I have -aid nothing of the Scriptural statements 
! i bear upon this subject, because I have been desir- 
if showing that, even apart from Buch testimony as 
the Bible affords, our common . when it reflects 

upon much evil goes unavenged in this 

worldj feels thai a future retribution is absolutely neces- 
Bary, to the claims of righteousness, and to 

clear the government of God of the charge of excessive 
unfairness and partiality. llui the testimony of Scrip- 



ROAD TO HELL PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS. 249 

ture is in exact accordance to these deductions of com- 
mon sense. I shall not now go into the important ques- 
tion, What claim has the Bible to our belief? How do 
we know that it is God's word — that it contains a revela- 
tion of his will ? There may be sceptics here, but I have 
not time to argue out this point. I can only afford room 
to say, that while there are men of learning, ability, and 
candor, who doubt and deny the authority of the Bible, 
the majority of learned, able, and candid men are very 
firmly convinced that the Bible is "no cunningly devised 
fable," but indeed and of a truth "the Word of God;" 
and moreover, I believe that this conviction is gaining 
ground, not losing it ; that there is on the part of able 
and learned men as strong a belief in the Bible now, in 
the full light of modern science, as there was three hun- 
dred years ago, when the light of science was compara- 
tively dim. The more the Bible is studied, the clearer 
becomes the evidence of its divine origin ; and the more 
nature is studied, the more deeply are its facts found to 
harmonise with the statements of the Bible. Eor rea- 
sons far too numerous to mention now, I can say, I 
think, with all candor and earnestness, that I believe 
the Bible to be entitled to our profoundest deference ; 
and that what it says upon the subject now under our 
consideration, as well as on other subjects, is worthy of 
our most solemn attention. I quite admit that in the 
Scriptural descriptions of a future state, of both heaven 
and hell, there is much that is highly figurative ; outer 
darkness — everlasting burnings — the worm that dieth 
not — the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone — tlio 
bottomless pit ; these may all be figurative expressions, 



250 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

but they are all indicative of misery and despair, all sig- 
nificant of the terrible effects of sin unrepented of and 
persisted in. In the present life, men may suffer much, 
and do suffer much, in body and mind, as the obvious 
consequence of their sins ; and we have only to transfer 
this capability of suffering to another life, and that an 
endless one, and then we may form some idea of the 
■wretchedness of hell. 

And with these conclusions of reason and statements 
of Scripture, most men's consciences harmonise. Let 
men disguise their apprehensions as they can, still there 
is "the dread of something after death;" a fear that it 
will not be all right with them in the other world — 
that they will be called to account for their thoughts, 
feelings, words, and works — that there really is a judg- 
ment to come, which there is no escaping — and that 
they have little to hope, and much to fear, as the eter- 
nal result of their conduct in this period of probation 
and trial. Those very resolutions of amendment, which 
are so often broken, are so many evidences of this fear, 
so many atl attempts, to "flee from the 

h i" come." There is a hell, then, no doubt of that 
— there is, there ■ > be, there must be. I believe 

• : but ': me that the 

a hi II is, if }> ger than that on 

the strength of which we believe in a heaven; for. if 

en be a , we i lay very reasonably 

Wli" can 1 at all ? We arc all, at 

nts, and God is not our 

the Scripture, I 

d believe in a heaven; for the 



ROAD TO HELL PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS. ZOl 

lieaven of those Philosophers, who speak so much about 
future rewards, appears to rne to be all moonshine, if it 
be a heaven in which men are to receive eternal happi- 
ness as the wages due to them for what they have been 
and done on earth. Apart from the testimony of the 
Bible, my conclusion would be this — there may be a 
heaven, but there must be a hell ; there may be some 
virtue that ought to be rewarded in a future world, but 
I know that there is a great deal of sin that ought to be 
reckoned for in the other world. You say, " God is in- 
finitely good." Yes, and because he is infinitely good, 
I believe he will punish sin. It is no mark of goodness 
when a man, and especially a magistrate (which God is), 
winks at wrong-doing ; and if you have a notion that 
God is too kind, too good-natured, to inflict pain on any 
of his creatures, it will be well for you to consider what 
suffering, what anguish, what torment God ordains as 
the penalty of transgressing natural law, although we 
transgress it in our ignorance. By mistake, you drink a 
deadly poison ; well, then, you must die. It seems very 
hard, perhaps, that for that mistake you must be cut off 
in the prime of life, and taken away from your wife and 
children, who depend upon you for support. But so it 
is ; the natural law is inexorable, and the poison ope- 
rates as effectually as if you had taken it with the ex- 
press design of destroying yourself; and is it not evident 
from this, that while God is good and merciful, still he 
conducts all things according to fixed laws ? And if 
pain and death be the penalty of transgressing these 
laws of nature, is it very surprising, is it a thing in- 
credible, that far severer suffering should be the ultimate 



252 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

result of violating, and willfully violating moral law ? 
If pain and death are the results of a mistake, is it in- 
credible that "tribulation and anguish" should be the 
results of a sin ? 

But to our proverb. There are two versions of it, 
" Hell is paved with good intentions," and " The road to 
hell is paved with good intentions." I have chosen the 
latter, and I will tell you why. My reason is this, that 
I do not think the other version true ; I do not believe 
that hell itself is paved with good intentions. Lost souls 
are not capable of good intentions ; they have become 
wholly bad, and are "unto every good work reprobate." 
They have become like unto Satan ; that resemblance to 
the devil which was commenced on earth is perfected in 
hell ; all goodness has forsaken them — they cannot e\en 
repent ; they have settled into a sullen, gloomy, and im- 
placable hatred of God, of themselves, and of each other. 
This is their sentence, " He that is unjust, let him be 
unjust still; he that is filthy, let him be filthy still." 
And if they were capable of good intentions, I do not 
see of what service such intentions could be, if, as the 
Scripture assures us, their portion is everlasting con- 
tempt and endless despair — if they are deprived even of 
hope. I do not believe, then, that hell is paved with 
| intentions, unless it be with the fragments of good 
intentions made and broken in this life; and therefore I 
have adopted this other version of the proverb, for I do 
find that the road to hell, from its beginning to its end, 
: the firsl Btep to the last which a man takes in the 
ways of evil, is paved with good intentions. The man, 
in many instances, is perpetually resolving to amend, to 



KOAD TO HELL PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS. 253 

repent, to reform, to retrace his steps, to forsake the 
path of vice and crime, and turn his feet into the ways 
of virtue, godliness, and peace ; and good intentions, 
alternating with bad conduct, make up the sum total of 
his life. To some of those good intentions, which are 
often formed, but seldom carried out, I must now ad- 
vert ; and they present us with a miserable exhibition 
of human weakness and folly. I do not say that it is 
foolish to form a good intention ; but to persevere in 
forming them, and departing from them, is, I think, 
proof positive of very great foolishness, and great igno- 
rance of one's own heart. 

A large space on "the road to hell is paved with the 
good intentions" which young men, and, I might add, 
young women, too, form, on their first introduction to 
scenes of pleasure, revelry, and dissipation. They are 
invited to go and see a bit of life; only to see it ; that's 
all. It's well they should know what is going on in the 
world. They can go to the races, but they must not 
bet ; they had better not do that ; they will be swindled 
to a certainty ; but the fresh air and the recreation will 
do them good. True, there may be many questionable 
characters there, and more than questionable practices ; 
but there's no harm in seeing a race. And so they go, 
with intentions, if not good, at least perfectly harmless. 
But that going to the races has in many instances proved 
one of the first steps on "the road to hell." They have 
paved their way so far with their innocent intentions. 
The billiard-room is first visited, in much the same spirit. 
Let us go and see such or such a celebrated player per- 
forming his astounding feats. It's a wonderful sight; 



I25-I LECTUB1 CHE PEOPLE. 

there's no occasion for as to play; in fact, we should be 

greal i play with him, at any odds in our fa 

but Ave ran look on. Cards, too! Well; what harm is 

ime of cards, as long as you don't play for 

. or limit yourself to a merely nominal Bum — a 

nee, for example? It is an innocent amusement; 

an exercise of skill — a wholesome trial of temper; at 

, it i an a agreeable way of spending an hour or 

two, and better far than mere empty talk and uncharitable 

i p. And then, again, the theatre ; we read plays ; why 
not go and see them acted? where's the difference between 
the theatre and the concert-room? are not the plays 
licensed by authority of the Lord Chamberlain? and who 
ever heard of a Lord Chamberlain's doing anything 
wrong, or licensing anything immoral? But we say 
many of the plays are immoral, and shockingly so. 
Well; but if they be so, that's no reason why I should 
be corrupted by them. Can't I take what's good, and 
leave what's vile? Certainly, in most theatres tl 
are Haunting harlots, bedizened in their finery; but to 
me they will prove more revolting than attractive. 
only for the purpose of being gratified, and possil I 
. by the performance. Then the free-and-i 
Well; <»nc can go there, too, and take no barm; there's 
nothing immoral in listening to a good song; and if some 
of tl rcely any, of them 

are deci I. There is rather strange company in 

: but Lam not obliged to associate with them, 
and If to myself. In the same way, 

without any bad intention, the dancing-saloon is visited. 
Is there anything wrong in dancing? at all events, lean 



ROAD TO HELL PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS. 255 

go and look on. And there are dancing-saloons from 
which improper characters are excluded— highly respect- 
able places— where everything is conducted with pro- 
priety. The public-house, too, is first frequented, with 
no immoral design. ]S T o one begins his public-house 
career with the intention of becoming a sot; but cheer- 
ful society is to be met with; it's a pleasant, sociable 
way of spending an evening ; such a man can sing well, 
such another can tell a good story ; and a good deal of 
information about business is to be obtained in that social 
circle. Thus most amusements, however dangerous their 
tendency and fatal their results, can be entered into, and 
generally are at first entered into without any bad in- 
tention ; nay, some good intention may be pleaded for 
entering into them; and each beginner, in his ignorance 
and self-confidence, thinks that he can resist temptation 
—that he can use pleasure, without abusing it— that he 
can go as far as considerations of health, economy, and 
morality allow, and then stop, then draw back, uninjured 
by his familiarity with evil. But a man cannot take fire 
into his bosom, and not be burned. He yields to the 
temptations into the midst of which he has willfully 
rushed; his resolution fails him, not perhaps at the very 
first, but he is gradually drawn into the fatal circle : his 
good intentions have deceived him, and "paved his way 
to hell." J 

Thus also is it usually with the first steps in dishon- 
esty. A young man is sent off about his business, dis- 
charged without a character, perhaps prosecuted, con- 
victed, and sent to prison, guilty of purloining or embez- 
zling his employer's property. Possibly enough he has 



256 LECTURES EOIt TIIE PEOPLE. 

Been liis employer purloin the property of the public, 
been taught by his employer to purloin the property of 
the public, and so been systematically trained to become 
a thief; but if you trace the history of such a man, it 
-will often be found that he had fallen into extravagant 
habits, habits of dressing too expensively and living too 
expensively, habits of drinking, habits of dissipation; he 
had become the companion of men better off than him- 
self, and he must needs vie with them, and try to appear 
their equal; hence he got into debt, and was pressed and 
threatened by his creditors. To escape this exposure, 
he resolved to borrow — stretched a point of conscience 
as to borrowing without leave — made use of his em- 
plover's money, honestly intending to replace it. He 
did" not think that theft exactly; it was not quite the 
thing, but still he made a great virtue of the honesty of 
his intention. So he took the money, not altogether 
without qualms of conscience, but still he administered 
to his conscience a soporific draught of good intentions, 
which lulled his conscience to sleep. He did replace the 
money; he made his promise good, and this encouraged 
him to play the same game again, to play it often, per- 
haps, the good intention always excusing the fraud to his 
conscience, always standing godfather to the deed: until 
at last the borrowed sum was too large to be repaid, the 
difficulty became insurmountable, and now, a discovered 
and convicted thief, his r gone, his prospects 

ruined, his power of making an honest living almost 
utterly destroyed, and little else open to him than a life 
of disgrace and crime, he finds that he has "paved his 
road to hell with hi.- good intentions." 



ROAD TO HELL PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS. 257 

I know of no one who forms so many good intentions 
as the intemperate man. Every now and then he deter- 
mines to become sober. No one is more thoroughly con- 
vinced of his folly; if he does not see that his conduct is 
sinful, he can't help seeing that it is foolish. When he 
has been off on the spree, and spent every halfpenny, 
and pawned his watch and his foot-rule and his Sunday 
clothes and his furniture, when he is suffering from 
hunger and the blue devils, when he finds that he can't 
get a stroke of work to do, and remembers that it is all 
" along of that drink" in which he has indulged; he is 
humbled and ashamed, and angry with himself, and often 
vows that he will for the future abstain, or, at all events, 
he will restrict himself within moderate bounds; he hears 
a lecture, or he reads a tract, or some kind neighbor 
expostulates with him, and he resolves that henceforth 
he will be a very different man; he will stick to his 
work; he will take his wages home to his wife; he 
wiU get his things out of pawn, and they shall never 
again pass under the shadow of the golden balls. He 
will be steady at last: he tells you that you may rely 
upon him; he is angry if you are doubtful; he is ready 
to bet you anything in reason that he will keep his 
word — "Do you mean to insult me, by saying that 
you don't believe that I can keep it?" But let him get 
to work again, let him get into the company of men who 
frequent the pot-house, and it's very soon all up with his 
good intentions. One by one he casts them beneath his 
feet, and with them "paves his road to hell." So also 
have I seen it with the rake, the profligate, the man of 
dissipated sensual life. When he begins severely to feel 



258 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

the effects of his sensuality, and finds that he has un- 
dermined his health and wasted his strength, perhaps 
some little nobleness of mind is left in him, -and he feels 
how degrading, how brutish, how unworthy of a rational 
being his past life has been; and conscience, too, is 
awakened, and he is stung with remorse and agitated 
with fear; he sees that it will not do to live as he has 
lived. He must give up those riotous companionships ; 
he will become a man of regular habits ; he will exercise 
that self-control which every man worth calling a man 
does exercise; he will bring his passions into subjection 
to his reason and his conscience. It's all very fine; it's 
a great deal too fine; such good intentions are like one 
of those exceedingly clear, fresh, beautiful mornings, 
which so often are the harbingers of very rainy days. 
This penitential fit soon passes off. 

When- the Devil was sick, the Devil a monk would be ; 
When the Devil got well, the devil a monk was he. 

Let the profligate recover a little, and he is tempted 
again to frequent the scenes of his former dissipation. 
Now he despises himself for having been so soft as to 
think with seriousness. He is young still; he will enjoy 
life while he can ; and when he is advancing in years, 
then he will reform, and witli this good intention " he 
paves his way to hell." 

Is it not so with most of us, although we may be nei- 
ther drunkards, nor profligates of a still lower grade? 
We are conscious that we have done wrong, that our 
conduct needs improvement, our character reformation. 
Sometimes, perhaps, we think, "What if we were sud- 



ROAD TO HELL PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS. 259 

denlj to die in our sins !" The death of a relative, or 
other friend, brings such thoughts into our minds. Per- 
haps a sermon has thus affected us, and made us think 
of eternity; and we have resolved to give up this sin and 
that, and live soberly, righteously, and godly ; to over- 
come such and such bad habits, such and such bad pas- 
sions. Like the man in the parable, many of us have 
said, « I will arise and go to my father;" but we have 
not gone ; we have gone only part of the way ; our re- 
pentance has been repented of, and we have gone back. 
Our companions have called us back; our own evil hearts 
have urged us back; gloomy views of religion have driven 
us back ; the temptations of the world, the flesh, and the 
devil have lured us back ; and we have gone and entered 
the devil's service again, and tried to satisfy ourselves 
with the filthy husks ; and we feel that these good reso- 
lutions of ours are our condemnation— that we are more 
guilty, now that we have broken them, than if we had 
never formed them. Kept, they would have paved our 
way to Heaven; broken, they have " paved our way to 
Hell." But the grand delusion, the master deception 
of all, the commonest and most successful of the devil's 
devices, is the good intention to repent and reform at 
some future period. It is true that life is very short, and 
proverbially uncertain ; it is true that we are daily ex- 
posed to accidents and diseases which may hurry us away 
without a moment's preparation ; it is true that our friends 
and neighbors are thus carried off before our eyes ; it is 
true that when a man has to contend with great physical 
suffering, or is laid prostrate in extreme weakness, it is 
no time for such exercise of mind and soul as repentance 



2G0 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

for sin and trust in God demand ; it is true that a death- 
bed is of all places about the very worst, and most un~ 
likely, for the conversion of the soul; but still almost 
ev< ry man says to religion, "When I have a more cou- 
nt season, I will call for thee." If you think that 
as years advance (supposing that many years are granted 
you, and that you will live to be old), you will be more 
inclined to consider religion, and to become religious, you 
are laboring under a great mistake. Time does not soften 
the heart, but continuance in evil hardens it. The proba- 
bility is that to the last you will talk about some more 
convenient season, and thus your good intentions will day 
by day and year by year "pave your road to hell. 

I do not find fault with good intentions, for in them- 
selves they are good, but a good intention not carried 
out becomes an evil, a snare, a source of condemnation. 
It is better not to promise at all than to promise and not 
perform. Good intentions prove the existence of con- 
science ; prove that conscience is not altogether asleep; 
prove that we know the difference between right and 
wrong, and when they are not fulfilled they prove that our 
sin is sin against knowledge and against conviction. Ig- 
norance, though n.>t a justification, is a mitigation, for 
«he that knew not his lord's will, and did commit things 
worthy of Btripes, shall bo beaten with few stripes;" but 
ignorance cannoi bo pleaded by the man of good inten- 
t ; (n8 . he is thai servanl who know his lord's will and did 
it not, and therefore -.hall be beaten with many stripes;" 
and whaterer bo the misery of hell, the remembrance of 
good intentions unfulfilled must be one of its most bitter 
elements. What shall I say of good intentions ? Shall 



ROAD TO HELL PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS. 261 

I condemn them — shall I advise you not to form them ? 
Far from it. I would to the utmost encourage every 
resolution of amendment, every intention to forsake an 
evil habit, to restrain a vile passion, and to do what is 
right in the sight of God and man. But I would encour- 
age you to make them in dependence upon the strength 
of God. 

Our own strength is weakness. I do not say that we 
are all equally weak, and that no man has naturally a 
particle of moral strength, or the strength and ability to 
keep a good resolution ; but I can very safely appeal to 
the facts of your own history, to the records of your 
own memory, to the testimony of your own consciences, 
when I say that we have all of us been too often over- 
come by temptations, and seen too many excellent and 
beautiful intentions scattered to the winds, to rely much, 
to rely at all, upon ourselves. Solomon says, " He that 
trusteth in his own heart is a fool," — wise and weighty 
words these. A man may trust in the strength of his 
arm when he has some work to do ; he may trust in the 
cunning skill of his hand when he has some delicate 
operation to perform ; he may trust on his knowledge 
and judgment when he has to pronounce and act upon 
some opinion on a matter of trade, of science, of litera- 
ture, or of politics. Yes, all this self-reliance is allowa- 
ble, is to be commended; but "he that trusteth in his 
own heart is a fool." Most men, of any experience, know 
this, for in fact they are well aware that their hearts 
have often made fools of them, that their hearts have 
promised much and performed little, that, in the inimi- 
table language of one who knew his own heart and the 



262 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

heart of humanity well, " when they would do good, evil 
ia present with them." I think, then, that it would he 
Lse to encourage good intentions, to say to men, Re- 
■ to do this, and resolve not to do that, be determined 
to abandon such a vile practice, and to cultivate such a 
virtuous habit,— unwise, I say, and well nigh ns« 
thus to counsel men, without at the same time remember- 
ing the pitiable weakness of human nature, and therefore 
pointing them to Him in whom alone is our strength. 
Resolve ! yes, resolve by all means to forsake the scenes 
of sensual amusement ; to lead a life of perfect sobriety 
and chastity ; to conduct all your business with unim- 
peachable integrity ; to overcome every sin, however ea- 
sily besetting ; and to be a godly man ; but trust not in 
your o^vn heart, or these resolutions will be like many that 
are moved, seconded, and passed at public meetings, and 
Tvhen the fine speeches have ceased, and the assembly 
has dispersed, are forthwith and for evermore forgotten, 
proving themselves mere matters of empty form, and 
cheap compliments which people pay to philanthropy. 
Trast not to y<»ur own hearts, but to Him who, knowing 
our moral weakness, tells us that -they that wait upon 
him shall renew their strength," and in all duty, 
strengthened by him, shall "mount as on the wings of 
pun and not be weary, walk and not faint!" 
p )Ut t here is one good intention, and just one, which, if 
carried out, will, by God's bl souls from 

that hell, the existence of which is so certain, and the 
fear of which is sometimes awakened in our hearts. 
Form the intention of believing in Jesus Christ— of trust- 
ing in him as your deliverer, your Redeemer, and the 



ROAD TO HELL PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS. 263 

propitiation for your sins ; and may you have the 
strength to act accordingly. You may be sober, you 
may be chaste, you may be truthful, but these virtues 
will not take away sin. The first matter — the matter 
of highest importance — that which alone can be the turn- 
ing point which shall set you right, and put you in the 
right path — is, trust in Christ. This once accomplished, 
your good intentions, faithfully carried out, will pave 
your road to heaven — will be the steps by which, with 
God's help, you shall climb higher and higher in all vir- 
tue, until you reach that perfection of the soul which 
itself is heaven, and without which no heaven is possible 
for man. 



2C-1 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 



LECTURE XIV 



POOR RICHARD S ALMANAC. 

Among the writings of the celebrated Benjamin 
Franklin, there is a small tract called " The Way to 
Wealth, as clearly shewn in the preface of an old Penn- 
sylvania Almanac, entitled Poor Richard improved." 
One of Franklin's editors gives us the following informa- 
tion as to the origin of this tract. " Dr. Franklin, as I 
have been made to understand, for many years published 
the Pennsylvania Almanac, called 'Poor Richard' (Saun- 
ders), and furnished it with various sentences and pro- 
verbs which had principal relation to the topics of 
industry, attention to one's business, and frugality; the 
whole or chief of these sentences and proverbs he at last 
collected and arranged in a general preface, which his 
countrymen rend with much avidity and profit." 

I think that the wise sayings contained in the preface 
of "Poor Richard" are well worthy of our study, and 
therefore I propose on this occasion to select a few of 
them, and to offer some remarks by way of commentary 
and application. In this tract, " Poor Richard" repre- 
sents himself as standing amongst a crowd of people 
collected at the door of an auction room, and as the sale 



POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC. 265 

had not commenced, they of course began to talk of the 
badness of the times. Like the weather, the badness of 
the times is a topic that never fails. It seems very 
absurd that when. I meet my neighbor, I should deliver 
myself of such a speech as this — " It's a beautiful day, 
sir," a fact of which my neighbor is as fully aware as 
myself; still we do something like justice to the weather, 
for (unless we be farmers, who are often very hypercritical 
in this matter) when the weather is good, we say so ; but 
who ever heard a man congratulate his neighbor on the 
goodness of the times ? One might suppose there never 
had been good times since the beginning of the world ; 
and many persons seem to think their own times worse 
than any which have passed by. If this impression be 
correct, then, year by year, and generation after genera- 
tion, the world has been becoming a harder and more 
unpleasant place to live in ; our times must be very bad 
indeed, and we of all men that ever lived, must be "most 
miserable." I hope it is scarcely necessary to say that 
this impression, from whatever cause it takes its rise, is 
utterly unfounded ; no past generation can be mentioned, 
which would not have great reason to envy us and our 
times, if they could be informed of our condition ; to 
murmur at the badness of the times, betrays great 
ignorance, great ingratitude, or both ; we, and not our 
remote ancestors, are the people who have a right to say, 
not boastingly, but with profound gratitude to God, 
" The lines are fallen unto us in pleasant places, yea we 
have a goodly heritage." Still men do fret themselves 
about the badness of the times ; the times may be good, 
but they are never good enough ; demonstratively better 



2GG LECTURES FOR T1IE PEOPLE. 

than past times yet far inferior to that ideal perfection 
which, with more or less of distinctness, men image to 
themselves. Perhaps in this disposition, unhappy and 
ungrateful though it be, we may recognise an evidence 
of a very great and important principle; man's discontent 
with the world, even at its best estate, goes far to show 
that the world is not his rest ; that there is something in 
store for him, if he will but aim at it, greater, better 
than the world ; time is never good enough ; no, for 
man's real good is stored up in eternity. You may 
doubt your immortality, you may deny it, you may 
ridicule the idea of it, but your restlessness, your dissatis- 
faction, your perpetual craving after something that is 
always beyond your reach, ought, I think, to admonish 
you of the probability, the high probability, of a nobler 
state, to which it is your duty to aspire ; and the way of 
obtaining which, I for one do most firmly believe God 
has pointed out to us in that King of Books, which, for 
-ns too numerous to mention now, I feel sure is His 
0W n Word to mankind — His loving message to his 
wayward and benighted children! 

Well, these people, whom "Toor Richard" met at the 

ion room, talked of course of the badness of the 

ad of course threw the blame upon the Govern- 

m en1 " «e very unwilling to believe 

their poverty, their difficulties, their calamities, are 

II of their own folly and mi ■• The group 

in which "P '• appealed to an 

. - ". , :i t think you of the times? Will not 

I quite ruin the country? How shall 

be able to pay them? What would you advise us 



POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC. 267 

to do?" The old man had diligently studied "Poor 
Richard's Almanac," and, proceeding to give his advice, 
he based his counsels upon the sentences and proverbs 
with which for many years the almanac had been gar- 
nished. He gave utterance to a very weighty truth, 
when in the exordium of his sermon, he said, "The taxes 
laid on by Government are very heavy, but we are taxed 
twice as much by our idleness — three times as much by 
our pride — and four times as much by our folly ; and 
from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver 
us by allowing an abatement." There is a self-imposed 
taxation, of which we seldom think, but a taxation of 
enormous magnitude. If all men were industrious and 
steady, the poor-rate would scarcely amount to a farthing 
in the pound, and that great palace of indolence, the 
almshouse, would immediately be "to be let." The 
enormous expense of police and prisons is, every farthing 
of it, a self-imposed tax, a part of the price which we 
have to pay for sin. Those most costly establishments, 
the army and navy, could be dispensed with, and as a 
matter of course would be dispensed with, if all nations 
were wise enough, and virtuous enough, to abandon, by 
common consent, the exceedingly unprofitable game of 
war. Consider, too, how heavily people tax themselves 
in order to keep up a grand appearance; reflect upon the 
innumerable extravagances of luxury; it is one of the 
crying evils of the age, that great numbers of people are 
not content to live within their incomes ; " they spend 
the Michaelmas rent in the Midsummer moon;" they are 
impatient of the least restraint upon their expensive 
tastes ; every man tries to outshine his neighbor, not in 



208 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

virtue, but in vain and vulgar grandeur. Only thins 
how heavily many persons tax themselves in the one 
article, or rather, I should say, the one department, of 
dress; they are so infatuated as to think that it is a 
certain style of dress that makes the gentleman or the 
lady; the tailor can make a gentleman of any "snob," 
the milliner can transform into a lady, a woman who 
never in her life was guilty of uttering one sentence of 
correct English. Omnipotent tailors ! Who shall utter 
again that ancient calumny, which alleges that it takes 
nine of you to make a man, whereas the deliberate belief 
and affirmation of this age of progress is, that any one 
of you can make any number of gentlemen ? In eating 
and drinking, too, there is a heavy, self-imposed taxation; 
there are many, it is true, who can scarcely secure the 
necessaries of existence, but thousands who must have 
luxuries at any price, and have so habituated themselves 
to them, that the slightest self-denial would be intolerable. 
At one time, there were sumptuary laws which regulated 
every man's dress, and presided over every man's table; 
we do not wish to see those foolish old statutes revived, 
but their principle was good; it was just this: that 
every man should cut his coat according to his cloth;" 
that every man should live as he can honestly, and not 
dishonestly, afford to live; let every man enact and 
enforce his own sumptuary laws, and he will free himself 
from much heavy and unnecessary taxation, and find 
that it is possible to live, and to live with comfort too, 
even when "the times" are nothing to boast of. 

"Poor Richard's" commentator is down upon the 
idle folk ; and very properly; he will not tolerate idle- 



POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC. 269 

ness ; " Dost thou love life ? Then Jo not squander 
time, for that is the stuff life is made of." There is 
much time squandered ; most men certainly work six 
clays in the week,. when work is to be had ; but it is often 
considered a great hardship to be obliged to labor thus 
from day to day. The toiling millions are often repre- 
sented as objects of pity. Now, this is all nonsense; 
what else should men do ? How can they employ their 
time better than in work ? The man who has no work 
is the man who claims our pity. Some, undoubtedly, 
have to work too hard, their hours of labor are pro- 
tracted to an extent injurious to health, and detrimental 
to intellectual culture and moral elevation ; but ten or 
twelve hours a clay for six days in the week, will injure 
no one, but will most decidedly do him a great deal of 
good. " The stuff that life is made of " is most shame- 
fully squandered ; morning quarters lost ; evenings spent 
in no useful pursuit ; hours and half hours — no end of 
them — thrown away ; fifty-two Sundays in the year, a 
full seventh portion of our time, which might be conse- 
crated to the highest purposes ; in many cases no satis- 
factory account can be rendered of such days, but an 
account very unsatisfactory, and one which will not bear 
reflection. We have not many holidays, it is true, but 
the few we have are generally squandered in dissipation. 
People complain of the shortness of life, but it strikes 
me that life is quite long enough, considering how it is 
usually spent. You talk about the value of human life, 
and human life is valuable ; but still, if we are to esti- 
mate life by its utility, it may be worth one's while to 
enquire whether there are not many horses, asses, and 



270 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

dogs, whose loss would be more severely felt than the 
of here and there a member of the human family. 
We have a most singular expression, to this effect, 
"killing time;" this I think shows that, short as life is, 
it is longer than many people well know what to do 
with; "killing time." Time, then, is something which 
we dislike, something which under certain circumstances, 
we feel to be oppressive and painful, therefore let us kill it. 
The same mournful fact appears in our word "pastime ;" 
we want something that shall cause the time to pass by 
unobserved ; we wish time to steal away, we wish it to 
get on faster. Time is capital, but with many it is capi- 
tal lying dead and unprofitable. My friends, do not 
squander this precious "stuff of which life is made;" 
study and ascertain well the purposes for which it has 
been given — the secular and spiritual purposes of this 
brief life, and husband every moment carefully, applying 
it wisely and well. 

There is much truth in this saying of "Poor Richard" 
— " Many without labor would live by their wits only, 
but they break for want of stock." You see this illus- 
trated in the lives of gamblers, in the lives of schemers; 
such men seldom get on, with all their cunning; there is 
very little doubt that this is true of those scoundrels 
whose vocation is to deceive and to rob poor emigrants, 
and who are a disgrace and a curse to this town — a nui- 
Bance by all means to be put down, if possible. I don't 
believe that the trade of a crimp, or a landshark, or a 
mancatcher, is profitable after all. Have faith in honest 
work ; there is more to he got by it than by cunning or 
knavery of any kind ; it is of course infinitely preferable 



POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC. 271 

on moral grounds — it is also far preferable upon merely 
secular grounds. 

" He that hath a trade hath an estate ; and he that 
hath a calling hath an office of profit and honor," says 
"Poor Richard." So the man who has a trade is not 
very badly off, he has - no reason to complain of his lot ; 
he has no landed property perhaps, but he has a property 
in his skill and his labor, which may be much more valua- 
ble than a considerable number of acres. But let him 
regard his calling as an office of honor too ; work, how- 
ever looked down upon by the people who cannot perform 
it, is essentially an honorable thing ; it may not be very 
profitable, but honorable it always is ; there's nothing to 
be ashamed of in it ; the man who has reason to be 
ashamed is the man who does nothing : let the coxcomb 
be ashamed of his kid gloves, but never let a man who 
works be ashamed of his hard hands : a hammer is a 
much more honorable implement than a gold-headed cane ; 
and a man hard at work, with his shirt sleeves turned up, 
is a great deal better worth seeing than a dandy dressed 
in his best " bib and tucker." 

Honor and shame from no condition rise, 
Act well your part, there all the honor lies !' ' 

"If we are industrious," says "Poor Richard's" com- 
mentator, "we shall never starve, for at the working 
man's house hunger looks in but dares not enter." I am 
afraid that in saying this, we say rather too much ; I do 
not think it is in the power of every working man to 
keep the wolf from the door, or even to prevent his com- 
ing into the* house. The unskilled laborer, in particular, 



272 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

may find this inv ; his wages are low, even when 

lie is in full work, and bad weather and many other in- 
evitable cause- may abridge his labor, so that' he may he 
compelled to pass week after week without employment. 
Why did he not save when he had full work ? It is very 
i r to ask this question — it is very easy to answer it 
too ; he could not save. It is wonderful how far some 
well-to-do people would make sixteen shillings a week go: 
a man of £-5,000 a year often fancies that he could save 
something out of nothing ! He lays down this rule with 
great emphasis — "Always live within your means; never 
spend more than ninepence out of every shilling you 
get, and then you will always have something to spare." 
ZS'uw, if a man gets one hundred shillings a week, or 
fifty, or even twenty-five, it may be possible for him to 
live and to support his family on the ninepence, and 
save the odd threepence ; but when the shillings are 
only eighteen or fifteen, life, even on the barest terms, 
imperatively demands the whole twelvepence. and it may 
be more, so that the poor fellow can hardly keep clear of 
debt; the fact is, that hunger is almost always prowling 
about sueh a man's door, and when work is scaree, hun- 
will enter, ami there's no preventing it. But '"Poor 
Richard" is quite right if we understand him to speak 
of the skilled artisan, the man who can command good 
-six shillings a week and upwards to 
fifty -. three pounds, or even more than that ; if 

ImiiL that man's house, it is and must be in 

:s own fault : there is no excuse for such a 
mai. be of destitution; there must have 

— on his part or on the 



POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC. 273 

part of his wife; lie lias been "squandering the stuff that 
life is made of" — he has been losing morning quarters — ■ 
going off on the spree — illustrating in some pot-house the 
truth of the proverb, "A fool and his money are soon 
parted;" or his wife has been thriftless and extravagant 
— a slattern, a gossip, a lover of finery or a lover of gin ; 
"If a man would thrive, he must ask his wife's leave," 
or all his industry, and income as well, will be in vain. 
Skilled artisans, there are many of you here ; I ask you 
to ponder these words of "Poor Richard," and say 
whether they are true. He says, " At the working 
man's door hunger looks in, but dares not to enter;" you 
are the best judges : just ask, now, whether it is not pos- 
sible to keep hunger out. He will of course look in at 
the door, but is it not in your power to slam the door in 
his face — to turn this devil out if he has got in, and to 
keep him out once you have compelled him to make him- 
self scarce ? Surely this may be done, if a wise economy 
is strictly observed; otherwise, with all your skill, and 
all the wages you make, you will experience the truth of 
what "Poor Richard" says, when he reminds us "that a 
man may keep his nose to the grindstone all his life, and 
die not worth a groat at last." 

And that is a fine saying of his — " Diligence is the 
mother of good luck." It is pitiable to see how much 
superstition there is with reference to what people call 
"good luck." There are people so ignorant, so foolish, 
so idiotic I might say, as to go to astrologers and other 
wiseacres to consult them about their luck ; and where 
the superstition does not sink to this depth, there is still 
a* impression that good luck and bad luck attend certain 
18 



274 LECTURES FOE THE PEOPLE. 

individuals in a mysterious manner; one is always lucky, 
another always unlucky-one gets on and cannot help 
getting on, another is always sticking in the mud, and 
he thinks it is his fate-" He that is born under a three- 
halfpenny planet will never be worth two-pence." Now 
good luck is, as "Poor Richard" says, the offspring of 
diligence ; it's not the luck that makes the man, but the 
man that makes the luck. Unlucky is a word which 
may be translated unwise ; generally a man is lucky be- 
cause he has good sense and uses it, and a man is un- 
lucky because he is a fool and acts like a fool. " Mis- 
fortune lives next door to stupidity." There ,s no mys- 
tery in luck; no planetary influence has anything to do 
with it; no charms of the fortune-teller can secure it; 
none of his spells can drive it away; nor is it a thing 
of chance; it is most plainly and unmistakably the re- 
sult, the natural and necessary result, of wisdom, dili- 
gence, and integrity. " Fortune has no power over dis- 
cretion," says Solon. Some men complain of their bad 
luck • they have no reason to complain ; the luck is bad 
because the man is bad; the luck is always as good as 
the man ; the luck, whatever it be, does in most cases re- 
present the real value of the man. If we are not industri- 
ous and frugal, diligent in acquiring, and economical in 
spending, I should like to know what right we have to 
eX peot good luck. If "there is no luck about the house" 
it's because there is no common sense, no industry, no 
economy about the house. Every man may have good 
] u ,-k if 'he will, but he must work for it, and he must 
deny himself for it, and he must wait patiently for it; 
good luck does not come all of a sudden, it quietly and 



POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC. 275 

gradually grows up around us ; it is what we reap, and 
we reap according to our sowing ; if we sow idleness, 
extravagance, prodigality, we must reap bad luck, and 
it serves us right.; if we sow diligence, prudence, fru- 
gality, we shall reap good luck. Luck is a very common 
toast ; " Here's luck ■!" says a man, as he raises the pot 
of beer or glass of rum to his lips. If you want good 
luck, it won't come because you honor it with a toast ; 
luck is not a goddess whom you can propitiate by drink 
offerings : "Here's luck !" — there's some common sense 
in it if you mean luck for the landlord, but I certainly 
do not see (perhaps you do) what connection there can 
be between your spending sixpence, or it may be six 
shillings, in drink, and your coming to the enjoyment of 
good luck. 

"Poor Richard's" commentator gives some good advice 
with reference to the best mode of spending money. He 
was addressing people who had come to attend a sale, all 
of them expecting to make some good bargains ; now, I 
think we ought to know enough of the auction system, 
as carried on in some quarters of the town, to convince 
us that the less we have to do with it the better. How 
kind and disinterested it is of the gentleman who stands 
at the door with small bills in his hand, who is so afraid 
that any person should pass by and miss such a chance ! 
How earnest he is ! — how he implores us to consult our 
own interest ! Most philanthropic auction touter ! — would 
that all ministers of religion were as energetic as thou ; 
standing there in the cold and wet, and lifting up thy 
voice incessantly ! Many of our shopkeepers are in the 
habit of immolating themselves, making enormous sacri- 



27G LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

ficcs ; some time since the walls of Liverpool were co- 
vered with the startling announcement— "£10,000 worth 
of property to be given away !" This man " has bought 
a bankrupt's stock," and invites us to share the spoil ; 
that man is "going to give up business, and it is posi- 
tively his last week;" the other "is about to make ex- 
tensive alterations, and must be cleared out by such a 
day !" Now there is a very wise saying, which many have 
found to their cost to be true— " A great bargain is a 
great pick-purse." " Poor Richard" says— "Buy what 
thou hast no need of, and thou shalt soon sell thy neces- 
saries ;" and he administers the sagacious caution— "At 
a great pennyworth pause a while." The fact is, nothing 
is & cheap if we do not want it ; a horse, which to one man 
^-ould be cheap at £50, would be to me very dear at £5, 
unless I bought him with the intention of selling him 
again. It's- the customers, and not the articles, that are 
"sold" at those attractive auctions, and by those trades- 
men who make enormous sacrifices. "Cheap John" is 
the dearest tradesman in the world; generally speaking, 
he is an incarnate lie. and when he shouts, "Sold again," 
you can tell from the twinkle of his cunning eye, that 
" sold again" means, - another fool taken in." The old 
saying is, "Good wine needs no bush;" the more the 
mock°auctioneer, the cheap John, and the sacrificing 
tradesman say in praise of their articles, the more are they 
to be suspected. It must be bad stuff that requires to be so 
pr< ssed upon the market. These affairs are called "sales;" 

J would BUggesta Slight alteration, aid call them "sells;" 

on ly fancy, "A Bell by auction"— that's what ought 
to be painted on that dirty little black flag; how 



POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC^ 277 

well it would look, if we saw in a shopkeeper's window, 
the announcement "Great and important sell!" this' 
however, would be the true statement of the case, as my 
friend, the sacrificing shopkeeper, well knows. Poor 
man! he has sacrificed himself so often, that I wonder 
there is anything left of him; I only wish he would in- 
vite me to be the officiating priest; I can assure him 
that his next sacrifice would be his last; under a strong 
sense of duty, I should certainly make a " holocaust" 
of him, and add him to the "noble army of martyrs" 
who have magnanimously consecrated their lives and for- 
tunes to the public good. 

Against debt, "Poor Richard" says some strong 
things, and things worthy of being remembered. " CrecT- 
itors have better memories than debtors." I was going 
to say that it is a very miserable thing to be in debt*; 
but the statement must be qualified, for many persons in 
this condition do not feel at all unhappy. "If y OU wish 
to sleep well," say the Spaniards, "buy the bed of a 
bankrupt;" a proverb which indicates not only the lux- 
urious ease to which such a person accustoms himself, 
but also his delightful indifference to the claims of his 
creditors; other men may have their sleepless nights, 
but a man who has smashed, or is about to smash, for 
<£50,000, enjoys a perfect exemption from care; some 
men are ashamed to meet their creditors, but many men 
have face enough for anything, they are all face. I do 
not say that it is always possible to avoid debt, but it is 
always highly desirable to do so; the man who, as the 
saying is, "goes on tick," pays "through the nose" for 
what he gets, and "through the nose" he ought to pay. 



278 lectures fop. the people. 

Lon- credit means a long price, and very properly ; you 
have no right to complain if a heavy interest is charged: 
until the coat is paid for, it is borrowed, not bought— ot 
course you must pay for the loan; as long as you are m 
debt you are at your creditor's mercy, with regard to 
both the price and the quality of the articles with which 
he supplies you. Nor is this the only disadvantage ot 
debt, it has a most demoralising tendency, for, as "Poor 
Richard" reminds us, « Lying rides on debt's back ; all 
sorts of untruths are told in excuse for the non-payment 
of debts; habits of mendacity are thus contracted, and 
meanness, cowardice, utter moral degradation are the 
frequent results of this pernicious and disgraceful prac- 
tice The utmost facilities are offered, it is true; the 
tradesman will trust you, the traveling draper comes 
round, and tempts you with most seductive offers: you 
B hall pay him so much a week, and he won't be hard 
uimn you; there arc loan societies, the very object ot 
whose existence is to enable a man to get into debt, and 
to entrap his friend- into the same enviable position, ihe 
loan societv says, of course, "My object is to enable 
you to pay your debts," hut the debt is only transferred 
• iV „ m a tradesman, who perhaps has some of the "milk 
of buman kindness " in his nature, to a society which, 
having - neither a soul to lose, nor a body to be kicked, 
cannot be expected to exercise mercy, and thinks itself 
exceedingly benignant if it condescends to do justice; 
the motto of every loan society should in all honesty bo 
__«He thai goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing. Oer- 
tainly, every facility, every temptation, is presented to 
the man who is willing to run into debt; and the "upper 



POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC. 279 

orders of society," as they are termed, set a very bad 
example to their humbler fellow-citizens in this respect. 
If some tradesmen were to divulge the secrets of their 
books, it would be seen that hundreds of the "tip-top" 
folk walk in borrowed clothes, ride in borrowed car- 
riages, drink borrowed wine, eat borrowed dinners, read 
borrowed books, and sleep in borrowed beds. The things 
are ultimately paid for sometimes, not always, for very 
frequently Mr. Windbag suddenly collapses. He is 
found to be in embarrassed circumstances, which often 
means he is discovered to be a swindler. He offers the 
munificent sum of 2s. 6d. in the pound, and thinks that 
he acts with honor, and even with liberality. 

If any of my hearers have scores against them, I 
would respectfully call their attention to the fact, and 
beg them by all possible and honorable means, to clear 
those scores off. Retrenchment must be the order of 
the day ; there must be effort, there must be self-denial. 
It is far more creditable to be seen in shabby clothes 
that are your own, than in the grandest outfit that is 
only borrowed. Never be so mean, so unmanly, so dis- 
honest, as to become the slaves of fashions that are too 
expensive for you. 

" Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse." 

Don't be ashamed to tell the truth, and say of this, 
that, and the other thing, I can't afford it. Be deter- 
mined that your expenditure shall be the obedient ser- 
vant of your income, and not your income the poor 
over-worked slave of your expenditure. " Poor Rich- 
ard " tells us that "pride breakfasted with plenty, dined 



280 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

with poverty, and supped with infamy." The rage for 
living in a certain style, without considering whether it 
can be supported, is one of the most serious evils of the 
present age. It seems to have escaped our observation 
that, though 

" Vessels large may venture more, 
Little boats should keep near shore. ,? 

In these times, every frog is ambitious of swelling 
himself to the dimensions of an ox. Now, if frogs are 
determined to do this, they must burst, and they ought 
to burst. 

"Poor Richard's" commentator, having exhorted his 
hearers to be industrious, frugal, and prudent, very pro- 
perly reminds them that these, though excellent things, 
"may all be blasted without the blessing of heaven;" 
therefore, he continues, "Ask that blessing humbly." 
If your object is merely to get rich, I cannot advise you 
to ask the blessing of God ; but if you desire to be pre- 
served from the miseries of poverty — if you desire to 
stand clear of debt, to pay your way honestly and honor- 
ably, to bring up your family in comfort, to afford your 
children a solid education, to make some provision 
against bud times, sickness, and old age, so that you 
may never be dependent upon charity, and never see 
more than the outer walls of the almshouse, and to be 
able to do some little service to the world by lending 
your aid to the enterprises of philanthropy and the un- 
dertakings of Christian zeal — it' this be your ambition, 
you may, I think, with a clear conscience, invoke the 
help of God; for all such objects as these appear to me 
to be in conformity witli his will. And rely upon it, a 



POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC. 281 

religious life, a life of humble and grateful dependence 
upon God's mercy — that mercy which found its highest 
expression in the gift of Christ, for the salvation of the 
human soul — a life of such dependence is that best calcu- 
lated to gather to itself the true elements of present 
welfare. " Blessed is the man that walketh not in the 
counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sin- 
ners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. But his 
delight is in the law of the Lord ; and in his law doth he 
meditate day and night. And he shall be like a tree 
planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his 
fruit in his season ; his leaf also shall not wither ; and 
whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. The ungodly are 
not so: but are like the chaff which the wind drivetb 
away." I do not wish to bribe men, by telling them that 
u godliness is profitable unto all things, having the pro- 
mise of the life that now is, and of that which is to 
come ;" nevertheless it is very true ; it is capable of 
abundant demonstration. " Seek ye first the kingdom 
of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall 
be added unto you." The principles which religion in- 
culcates, the state of mind which religion produces, are 
most exactly calculated to lead a man into that position, 
of all others the most enviable, in which, shielded from 
the bitter blasts of penury, and protected from the burn- 
ing rays of uninterrupted prosperity, the evils of each 
extreme are happily avoided ; and the mind, freed alike 
from the cares of want, and from the cares of wealth, is 
set at liberty to give its attention to other and far no- 
bler objects. The soul, like the body, thrives best in a 
temperate zone. 



282 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 



LECTURE XV 



WASTE 

Shock in a bad times these: nothing stirring, nothing 
doing; n) enterprise, no confidence; dullness reigns in 
all markets; depression is the order of the day; the 
wheels of commerce, which we have seen turning with 
such velocity, scarcely move at all, or, what is worse, in 
many instances, move fast enough, only the gear has 
been reversed; and, instead of turn a-head, half speed, 
stop her, back her, are the orders given to the engineers. 
Men of experience say that they never saw such a state 
of things; that the country never passed through such a 
firry trial; and that there is no immediate prospect of 
any great improvement. There is much speculation, 
much inquiry, much discussion, much asseveration, as to 
the causes which have produced this crisis, and prostrated 
for a time and so long a time, the commercial activity 
of this country, ami of the world. One man traces the 
calamity as clearly as p >ssible to this; another can de- 
monstrate to his own satisfaction that it lias arisen from 
that. It is my duty t? leave the settlement of such 
questions to those who are deeply learned iii the science 
nance; and I do so with some hope that they may 



WASTE NOT, WANT NOT. 283 

settle it, and yet with, much fear that the science of 
finance is, as yet, very imperfect; that it is a long way 
behind most of the sciences ; and that, though men have 
been buying and selling for thousands of years, still the 
philosophy of commerce is thoroughly understood by very 
few even of those engaged in it. 

This, however, is certain, and this it would be well 
ever to bear in mind, that, be the times good or bad, the 
Creator and Preserver of the world always makes ample 
provision for the wants of all. It is not from any de- 
ficiency either in the quantity or the quality of his gifts, 
but rather from our own defective wisdom, defective 
honesty, and defective humanity in the apportionment 
and appropriation of those gifts, that all the difficulties, 
the perplexities, and the miseries arise. The human 
race is like a family, whose table is liberally and con- 
stantly supplied, for every one bread enough and to 
spare ; but one man in his rapacity seizes more than his 
rightful share ; another in his folly squanders his rightful 
share; another in his ignorance is swindled out of his 
rightful share ; another in his idleness won't exert him- 
self to obtain his rightful share; and another, in his 
weakness, cannot get near the table, but is rudely and 
unfeelingly thrust aside, or trodden under foot, by his 
greedy brothers, and so goes short of his rightful share, 
and is happy if, dog like, he can pick up a few of the 
crumbs. If there is any man, here or elsewhere, 
throughout this country, who has had and will have no 
dinner to-day, let him rest assured of this, that God 
provided him a dinner, and it is either his own fault or 
that of his fellow-men, that he has it not; and it is the 



284 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

of the science of finance not to provide the 
dinner, but to show how each man may honestly get it 

<.y day and every day. In the productive powers 
of the earth, there is for all mankind an inexhaustible 
source of supply. These never fail, though they may 
be subject to local variations; so whatever the times 
may be, let God be thanked, he has done his part ; and 
however poor we are, it is not God who has stinted us; 
he has made the provision, he is ever making it for us, 
keeping all the machinery of nature in constant opera- 
tion, and so producing everything that man can possibly 
require ; but having created us intelligent and responsi- 
ble creatures, with heads, and hearts, and consciences, 
he leaves in our own hands, commits to our good sense, 
our industry, our justice, our humanity, the distribution 
of that boundless wealth, which it is his glory and his 
joy to shower down upon the world. I think it is of 
importance to bear this in mind, because when we are in 
want we are often tempted to fret against God, and to 
ask, Where is the justice, where the mercifulness of the 
Divine Being, that we are brought to such a state of 
suffering as this? It is not God who has brought us to 
this state. Last year there were spring showers and 
summer Bunshine and autumnal fruits, even as in other 
years; last year, like other years, was crowned with his 
goodness. "If the fig tree had not blossomed, and 
there had been no fruit in the vine, if the labor of 
the olive had failed, and the field- had yielded no meat, 
if the flock had been cut off from the fold, and there had 
hern no herd in the stall;" if the coal seams had been 
exhausted, and the mines of iron and copper and lead had 



WASTE NOT, WANT NOT. 2S5 

been worked out ; if the last forest tree in Norway and 
in America had been cut down ; if every acre of available 
land on the habitable globe had been tilled and the 
tillage proved unproductive ; then we might wonder at 
the dispensations of providence, and murmuring against 
God, though even under such circumstances inexcusable, 
would be not altogether surprising. But this has not 
been our case. There has been no utter failure, nor, as 
far as I am aware, any extraordinary deficiency, of any 
one article necessary for the comfort of the human race. 
God was, in all his gifts, as liberal last year as usual; 
therefore, if in our poverty and distress we grumble, let 
us not have the audacity to grumble against him. 

But you may ask, What consolation is it for us, in 
our extreme want, to be told that there really is abund- 
ance, though we cannot lay our hands upon it ? Is 
not this an aggravation of our misery ? I think not ; 
and I believe that, if you reflect for a moment, you will 
think with me. For this fact, that there is abundance, 
that the grand source of all, the power and mercy of the 
Creator, never fails, this fact enables us to hope that 
the evils under which we groan are at least curable. If, 
on the other hand, the present distress could be traced 
to the failure of some of the processes of nature, to the 
breaking down of some of the machinery of the universe, 
to the gradual diminution of the solar heat, to some de- 
rangement of the great water system by which the earth 
is irrigated, to the decay of the earth's productive pow- 
ers, to the exhaustion of its mineral treasures, then we 
should have a panic indeed ; the world would very 
reasonably be filled with consternation and despair, we 



286 LECTUKES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

should tremblingly anticipate the dissolution of nature, 
and the end of all things, and we should ask, in agony, 
Is there a God?— Is there a God? and the dim sun, and 
the dried up river-courses, and the barren earth, and the 
empty mines would seem to say to us, No, there is no 
God ; you have no Father in heaven that cares for you ; 
there is no hope for you, there is no help ; deliverance 
is impossible ; in the course of time you will all be frozen 
up, and you must starve and miserably perish. Such 
horrible fears would be justifiable, would be inevitable, 
if our distress could be traced to natural, and not artifi- 
cial causes ; if it arose from a diminution in those sup- 
plies with which God has ever favored the world ; and I 
consider it a very great consolation to know that this 
distress is artificial ; that it is man's work, not God's ; 
that it arises from our ignorance, our indolence, our 
greediness, or our inhumanity, or from all these in 
greater or less proportions, and not from any lack of 
either the power or the goodness of Him whose tender 
mercies have for so many ages been over all his works. 
Yes, it is man who has disarranged things, so that bad 
times alternate with good ; so that in this human family 
one brother haa luxurious plenty, and another brother 
cannot get a crust of bread; but men must try to ar- 
tter, and so to exalt righteousness, to 
}k rapacity, to encourage industry, to put down idle- 
ness, and to cultivate benevolence, that, by the blessing 
of God, the voice of complaining shall never be heard in 
our streets, and pauperism, with all its horrors, may 
come to a perpetual end. Political economy is a great 
and noble science, great and noble because of the im- 



WASTE NOT, WANT NOT. 287 

portant object which it proposes to accomplish, and 
which is nothing less than to determine how every hu- 
man creature shall be put into a position to obtain his 
full share of that bountiful provision which his Creator 
has made for him. May the wise and honest men who 
devote their attention to this great study be multiplied ; 
may their exertions be crowned with success ; may they 
be free from the trammels of prejudice and party ; may 
they be preserved from all fallacious reasonings and un- 
sound though plausible conclusions ; and may the result 
be a wise and fair distribution of all the gifts of God, 
according to man's rights and talents, so that every man 
may rejoice in his portion, and gratefully recognise the 
all-abundant goodness of the Lord ! 

But while we leave to financiers and political econo- 
mists the solution of these great and difficult questions, 
which they only can be supposed to understand, and 
upon which their opinion only is worthy of deference, 
we may, perhaps, be permitted to exercise our common 
sense in relation to so very common place a saying, as 
that which I have chosen for my motto on this occasion. 
"Waste not, want not." It is a maxim which, in the 
midst of this distress, may, perhaps, be profitably me- 
ditated upon, and from the study of which some not 
altogether useless hints may be obtained for our individ- 
ual guidance. Whatever be the state of trade, want is 
a thing we always see— and a horrid sight it is. The 
man who can witness it without the most distressing 
emotions is not to be envied. If you can walk these 
streets, and see the numbers of strong men, willing to 
work, but unable to obtain employment ; the multitudes 



288 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

of poor, ragged, and barefoot children, strangers to all the 
comforts, and even the decencies of life; if you can pass 
by the squalid, wretched abodes -which so abound around 
us on every hand, and feel no pity, no concern, you 
must be a very heartless person, or, if you have a heart 
at all, it would serve excellently well for a paving stone, 
in a street where the traffic is the heaviest and the 
greatest. 

At the present time there is undoubtedly more want 
than usual, for, throughout the country, there is very 
general distress, extending to almost all classes ; and 
how the poor have managed to live through this winter, 
without going, by hundreds of thousands, and almost by 
millions, to the parish, is more than most of us can 
understand. Their patience has been great, their forti- 
tude has been heroic, and a finer testimony to their 
strong good sense we could not have known, than the 
fact that, with very trifling exceptions, there has been no 
riotous disturbance, nor, as far as I can judge, has there 
been any great increase in the number of beggars; from 
which I gather that the begging class are not always the 
poorest — that, at all events, there are great multitudes 
of our people who are ashamed to beg, who have too 
much self-respect and honest pride, to go from door to 
door, abjectly asking for relief. No; they will suffer in 
silence and in obscurity, and submit to almost any 
amount of physical hardship, rather than degrade them- 
selves by joining the ranks of the worthless scoundrels 
who constitute the great majority of street mendicants. 
There is much want ; but it is not the working people alone 
who have to suffer. Probably, most of us, whatever our 



WASTE NOT, WANT NOT. 289 

position, have felt the pressure of the times. Merchants, 
shopkeepers, master tradesmen, as well as our operative 
population, have been affected, and in not a few cases 
ruined, by the storm which now for so long a time has been 
raging in the commercial world, and which has not yet 
altogether subsided, nor wholly spent its desolating force. 
It seems a fitting time, then — if one time be more 
appropriate than another— to consider this maxim, if not 
as it respects the past, as it bears upon the present and 
the future,— "Waste not, want not." It is proverbially 
a useless thing to cry over spilled milk, but not altogether 
useless to inquire and to remember how the milk was 
spilled, what it was that we stumbled against, and how 
it came to pass that we carried the jug so unsteadily 
and so carelessly that its contents were shed upon the 
ground. 

There are three things which we are much in the habit 
of wasting, but which we ought carefully to preserve- 
money, time, and health. The waste of money is not 
confined to any particular class. Perhaps, indeed, it 
is as general, and certainly more inexcusable, amongst 
persons of large means, than amongst those whose 
incomes are exceedingly limited. For, as Archbishop 
Whately, in his Annotations upon Bacon's Essays, ob- 
serves—" Take the numbers of persons of each amount 
of income, divided into classes, from £100 per annum 
up to .£100,000 per annum, and you will find the per 
centage of those under pecuniary difficulties continually 
augmenting as you go upwards ; and when you come to 
sovereign states, whose revenue is reckoned hj millions, 
you will hardly find one that is not deeply in debt : so 
19 



290 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

that it would appear that, the larger the income, the 

' t is it to live within it." In other words, the richer 

a man is, the poorer he is ; the more he gets, the less he 

: ) spare. Many persons, whose income has increased, 

»w four or five times what it once was, will admit 

that they are now very little, if at all, better off. They 

lived up to their means, and saved nothing; perhaps 

have lived beyond their means, and are in truth 

very hard up. For this is one of the follies, or rather I 

should say the vices, of the times. Most men's idea of 

the style they should live in quite keeps pace with their 

commercial progress, and often far outstrips it. They 

forget that w: one swallow does not make a summer;"' 

and, having an extraordinary run of good fortune for a 

time, they think it is to be always so. " Summer ha 3 

come," say they to themselves ; and they come out in 

summer style, and soon learn their mistake when, in the 

height of their fancied summer, there comes a bleak and 

wintry wind, a sharp and cutting frost, and their fine 

flowers are forthwith destroyed. 

It is not well to be looking always at the gloomy side 
of things ; but still, the man who can never see a cloud 
anywhere on the horizon of his prospect must be very 
deficient in his optic powers. Surely every child, every 
blockhead, ought to know that " it is not always May."' 
And how ofl ii a man like a butterfly, that, 

unfortuna ; ;~ h'. comes out before its time! It is 

good in to bear the yoke in his youth. If for- 

tune smile upon him too early, there is great danger of 
his being betray: 1 into extravagances, which he will not 
be able to support, and which he will be almost as unable 



WASTE NOT, WANT NOT. 291 

to retrench; for, once he has adopted a given style of 
living, it is a very humbling thing to alter it on the eco- 
nomical side. Nay, if he were to do so, when he is in 
difficulty, h ls prudence would be deemed imprudence ■ it 
would shake his credit; it would proclaim his poverty 
therefore he will retrench nothing, but rather will become 
more magnificent than- ever, hoping that the dust of his 
carnage-wheels, blown into the eyes of his creditors, may 
blind them. And thus many live upon false appearances, 
and clothe themselves with lies; their whole course of 
conduct is a deception; they belong, in fact, to the swell- 
mob. Brought up, perhaps, in a very humble style, and 
strangers in their youth to every thing of a luxurious 
character, they nevertheless are persons of such large views 
that nothing short of the utmost elegance and splendor 
will satisfy them; their desires expand; they strive to 
outsmne each other, and every foolish wish becomes an 
imperious want, and must be gratified, at whatever cost 
It seems to me that a good deal of money is wasted in 
dress, and that by men, as well as by women. Young 
men whose salaries are considerably under £100 a year 
often think it necessary, in order to keep up their dignity, 
that they should dress in a style which many men of ten 
times such an income would consider far too expensive 
In amusements, too, a great deal more money is spent 
than is necessary for healthy recreation; in fact, the 
healthy recreations are for the most part very inexpen- 
sive; but if men will go to singing saloons and dancing 
rooms, and indulge in amusements of the vicious class, 
they will find their pleasures so expensive as to make a 
very serious inroad upon their pecuniarymeans. however 



292 LECTURES TOR THE PEOPLE. 

ample those m ay be. But perhaps the greatest 

e. the gr< • • tne mr " r on 

bacco. Some people consider 
isume these articles in any quantity, how- 
moderate. I confess that I am not exactly of their 
opinion. I believe such things could he dispensed with, and 
a man would not suffer in his health by dispensing 
them. In like manner, I believe that gloves, and 
even hats, might be abolished without any very injurious 
consequences; stockings are quite a superfluity. Per- 
haps we might save house rent ; for might we not, Dio- 
genes like, live in tubs ? Pickles, too, and mustard and 
butter and tea and coffee might all be abstained from, to 
the advantage of a man's purse, and not at all to the 
detriment of his physical health ; and it is said, and I 
dare say there is a good deal of truth in the statement, 
that animal food is a luxury, and not by any means a, 
necessary of life; at all events, vegetarianism is practised 
by thousands of people, engaged in all sorts of work, and 
they assure us that they feci all the better in consequence 
of the adaption of such a diet. I have not yet made the 
experiment, but I know men who have. I once knew a 
man who assured me that his eating and drinking cost 
him only one shilling and sixpence a week, and sometimes 

fellow looked just as well, 

ad as hearty as The g< - f men. and a 

• than thousands who ; 

to the utmo ". Undoubtedly a great d il might be 

,1 i n the and drinking and smoking depart- 

,(,-. Posgil could all live on oatmeal porridge, 

! nothing else; nay, Ik' aboldt, I think, somewhere 



WANT NOT. 293 

tells us of a tribe of Indians who live in trees, and eat 
pipeclay six months of the year. But I do not advise 
such extreme self-denial, and if I did, I am very well 
aware that nobody would think of taking such advice. 
Still, let every man consider for himself wherein he can 
effect a saving, and ought to do so. There is no doubt 
that many millions are needlessly expended upon food 
and drink, to the great impoverishment of the people, 
and especially the working people. The most determined 
advocate of a moderate use of intoxicating beverages, 
and of tobacco, will admit that the waste of money upon 
these articles is enormous ; that, viewed altogether apart 
from the demoralising effects of intemperance, the ex- 
travagant expenditure in this direction is one of the 
greatest evils of the age, and the parent of nearly all 
the pauperism, as well as nearly all the crime, of the 
country. 

The consequences of all this waste are wretched and 
disgraceful. Thousands of people are helplessly sunk in 
debt, who might have a handsome balance to their credit. 

It is true that many don't care about being in debt 

consider it rather a joke than anything serious; like the 
bankrupt whose liabilities were £25,000 4s. 6d., and 
who, on being asked what he could pay, replied, with a 
smile, that he thought he could pledge himself to pay 
the odd 4s. 6d. A fast man would consider himself de- 
graded into the rank and file of the slow men if he paid 
his tradesmen's bills; it is part of his creed never to pay 
them if he can possibly avoid doing so. He considers it 
the height of impertinence for his tailor to expect the 
settlement of his account ; and if he is pressed for it, he 



294 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

threatens to withdraw his custom. But a person who 
has the slightest Bense of honor and self respect (which 
the fast man has) will always consider himself 

degraded by being in debt, when his debts arc the ci 
quences of his own folly and extravagance. He regards 
himself as very little better than a thief; and truly there 
is not much difference. Debt, at all events, if not the 
extreme of dishonesty, is the extreme of shabbiness. 
And it is very difficult for a man in debt to speak the 
truth; he has recourse to all sorts of mean and wretched 
Ions; he is obliged to invent this false story and 
that; in fact, few things are more demoralising than 
debt. And, as a matter of course, extravagance usually 
ends in poverty; the poor-house is simply the asylum of 
the wasteful man ; and probably not five per cent, of the 
adult inmates have been compelled to go thither by cir- 
cumstances over which they had no control. Now, surely 
something may be done, if we will only set about it reso- 
lutely. I have no right to interfere with any man's do- 
mestic economy, whether he is rich or poor. It is not 
for me to prescribe the style in which he should live, 
and I hope that I shall ever avoid such impertinence. 
But still I may be allowed to suggest that retrenchment 
should be the ord )V of the day. I may be allowed to 
caution gainst that extravagance which has 

been the ruin of so many: I may be allowed to say, 
D »n't be in such a hurry to it in a magnificent 

style. You will gain nei uor respeel by 

such an unwit aicidal course. Moderate your de- 

sires. Your wishes may be many, but your real wants 
are few. Take counsel of your purse, and remember 



WANT NOT. 295 

that there are bad times as well as good, and that all. 
men, however successful, are liable to heavy losses and 
tremendous reversions of fortune. Sit down, then, and 
deliberately and carefully count the cost. Never set 
anything up without a very reasonable assurance that 
you can keep it up. Keep within compass, a long way 
within the compass X)f your means, if it be practicable. 
A working man may ask how it is possible for him to 
retrench, when he has to keep a wife and five children 
on a guinea or twenty-five shillings a week, and when 
work is scarcely to be obtained. In his case retrench- 
ment is difficult, no doubt, but it may not be altogether 
impossible. Most of us, I dare say, will find upon care- 
ful scrutiny that we indulge in what may be perfectly 
lawful, but very inexpedient. At all events, no money 
need be wasted at the gin-shop and the beer-house, the 
two great sinks into which thousands of our people cast 
a large portion of their hard-earned money. Whenever 
you are tempted to enter such places, may these words 
come to your mind, "Waste not, want not;" and if you 
act in accordance to this principle, you will resolutely 
pass by the door. If the man who now through the 
badness of the times is so very hard up, and half starved, 
had only saved what in the course of the last few years 
he has spent, altogether needlessly, upon the quarts of 
ale and glasses of rum and gin, he would be in circum- 
stances of comfort and plenty, and the bad times would 
scarcely be felt by him. In fact, of all men in the world, 
a steady, industrious, and economical working man occu- 
pies the safest position, whatever the times may be ; the 
merchant, the banker, the master tradesman may be ir- 



29G Li OR THE PEOPLE. 

retrievably ruined ; but the utmost that a working man 

can i fif< r from a commercial crisis is to be un- 

: a few weeks; and if, by dint of economy 

for a rainy day, lie can manage 

to push on for that period, the moment business revives 
as well off as ever. 
But there is also another act of wastefulness, as 
common and as injurious as the waste of money — we arc, 
unhappily, very prone to throw time away, as if it were 
of no value, as if it could not be appropriated to useful 
purposes. I have reason to think that this is very much 
the case with young men. Most of them have a few 
hours to spare in the evening: I wish they all had time 
at their disposal, and that all work ceased at six o'clock, 
when I think it ought to cease, and might cease, except- 
ing under extraordinary circumstances. But how is this 
leisure time employed? Our young friends tell us that 
they must have recreation. They would fain have us 
believe that they are quite knocked-up, jaded, almost 
tired to death by the occupations of the day. Both 
mind and body have been so actively employed, that 
they must have amusements of some sort, and in these 
must spend the evening. Now I do believe that all the 
talk about excessive occupation, and the fatigue conse- 
quent thereon, is in many cases a.ll nonsense. As a rule, 
d are not over-worked. Even where the hours 
of labor are too protracted, the actual amount of exertion 
is not so at ; perhaps the hardest part of the 

day's engagements is having so little to do. Wnen I see 
young men coming from their offices and their workshops, 
they do not appear to claim any great amount of com- 



WASTE NOT, WANT NOT. 297 

raiseration ; they have not the pale, haggard appearance 
which might be expected to distinguish men worked 
almost to death. They can stand and they can walk ; 
stand and walk better then, just as they come out of the 
house of bondage, than four or five hours later, when, as 
I observe, in some cases, they require assistance, and 
have to be carried home. No; this talk about excessively 
hard work won't do ; it's all stuff. Not one young man 
in ten thousand has to work too hard, or is subjected to 
too great a strain either of mind or body, in his daily 
occupation. The hours of work may be too long, but 
that is quite another matter ; what I maintain, without 
fear of contradiction, is, that his work, in itself, is not so 
dreadfully laborious. I pity him for his imprisonment, 
when he has to remain behind a counter until nine, ten, 
and eleven o'clock at night ; but I don't at all believe in 
the exhaustion of mind and body, of which we hear so 
much. A working man is generally just as fresh and 
active at six in the evening, as at six in the morning ; he 
often lives three or four miles from his place of work 
and can walk home with perfect ease, and without the 
slightest sensation of fatigue. And as to the mental 
strain endured by our young men in offices, their minds 
must be extremely attenuated, if they are conscious of 
any strain at all. But they must have amusement ; very 
well, by all means have it, then. Time, within moderate 
limits, is not wasted in amusement. A schoolboy's play 
hour is as well spent as the hours spent over his books, 
and often very much better and more profitably spent. 
But I find that great numbers of young men have become 
so passionately fond of amusement, that they give up all 



208 ITURES FOR THE TEOPLE. 

their leisure hours to it ; and it seems to be taken for 
granted that the evening exists for no other purpose than 
to be spent in recreation. And so, week after week, and 
month after month, and year after year pass away, and 
aL the leisure time is devoted to the pursuit of pleasure. 
11 not now inquire into the nature of these amuse- 
ments, and their effect upon the moral character. I 
believe that most of them are had; that frivolity, intem- 
perance, profanity, and reveling are their chief elements. 
I shall not now inquire into their money cost, though 
this is worthy of consideration, for they cost so much 
that thousands of youths are by these amusements 
tempted to depart from the path of rectitude, and to 
pilfer their masters' property ; but I wish to point out 
the enormous loss of time which is the result of this 
extravagant desire for amusement. That leisure might 
be so differently spent, so much more wisely, so much 
more profitably occupied in the pursuit of knowledge, in 
the endeavor to become wise and well informed. If you 
. to get out of the treadmill of common drudgery, to 
occupy positions at once honorable and lucrative, you 
must spend, your evenings in something better than mere 
amusement; you must restrain this foolish love of plea- 
sure ; you must exercise a manly self-denial, and give 
i reading and reflection, to the acquisition 
of solid information ; not to the reading of light literature, 
which is only an amusement, and. like other amusements, 
to be indulged in sparingly, but to the study of such 
works as will strengthen and improve your mental facul- 
ties, and prepare you for such a position as you aspire 



299 

to. "Waste not this precious time, then. Let me beg of 
you to devote your evenings to nobler objects than those 
-which engross so many, and leave them, ignorant and 
helpless, to be mere Gibeonites, "hewers of wood and 
drawers of water," all their days. The waste of time 
often takes other forms — forms in which it is obviously 
about the same thing as the waste of money, for time is 
money to every man, especially to every working man. 
There is many a man, who, if he were to lose 2s. 6d. in 
hard cash, would be very much concerned, and if he were 
to lose £5, would be almost inconsolable ; yet he thinks 
nothing at all of losing a morning quarter ; considers 
that he is at perfect liberty to lose the whole of Monday ; 
and occasionally goes off on the spree, and stays from 
his work for a fortnight. Is it any wonder that such a 
man should come to want? that, on the slightest pressure 
of bad times, he is reduced to starvation, and obliged to 
pawn his watch, his furniture, and his clothes ? Hence- 
forth be this our motto — to waste no time ; to reduce our 
recreation within reasonable bounds ; to work the full six 
days in the week, when work is to be had ; and to devote 
our evening hours to such pursuits as shall favor our 
moral culture and intellectual advancement, and so favor 
our advancement in every way. 

Once more, and very briefly, let me advert to another 
act of shameful wastefulness — the waste of health. The 
extent to which this prevails is very great. By intem- 
perance and vicious excess of all kinds, men, by thousands 
and tens of thousands, systematically and voluntarily 
make themselves weak and wretched, and cut short their 



300 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

days. Every time you indulge in such vices, if you can 
call it an in-lul . nail into your coffin, 

rth out of your grave. Such 

wise; it al in the 

We are not our own, but His, and 

roy, or to shorten, or to enfeeble that 

which he gave us for the noblest purposes, that it 

might be dedicated to his service, and spent in obedience 

to his laws. 

"Waste not, want not;" observe a wise and careful 
economy in all things ; be prudent, without being parsi- 
monious ; saving, without being penurious ; provident, 
and yet not avaricious. " Gather up the fragments that 
remain, that nothing be lost," is a Divine command, and 
one given by Him whose benevolence was unbounded, 
and who with a word could create food for famished 
thousands. The economical man is not of necessity a 
stingy man. The spendthrift is usually the most intensely 
Belfish of mortals. There is nothing incompatible between 
the most rigid habits of economy and the most genuine 
and e liberality. In fact, all liberal things are 

devised, or, if not devised, are certainly carried on, by 
the men whose prudence, forethought, and thrift have 
put it in their power to do good. Charity joins with 
prudence in £ to us, "Waste not, want not; and 

the charitable institutions of this town, and of the country 
at large, are limited and embarrassed in consequene 
the shar. - of those who ought to support 

them, but, having Bpent all upon themselves, cannot 
afford to do so. "Waste not," and then you will want 



301 

neither that which is necessary for yourselves, nor that 
which would render help to those who stand in need of 
it. If you wish to be charitable, you must be industrious 
and saving ; and you cannot enjoy to the full the luxury 
of doing good, unless you deny yourselves the luxuries 
of selfish extravagance. 



302 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 



LECTURE XVI 



TELL THE TRUTH, AND SHAME THE DEVIL. 

Englishmen consider themselves the most honest, 
straightforward, and truthful people in the world. The 
Spaniard is chivalrous, the Frenchman is polite, the 
Italian is treacherous, the Greek is crafty, the German 
is mystical, the Scot is cunning, the Irishman is given to 
blarney, the Yankee is 'cute; but if you want a man 
with no nonsense about him — a man who will tell you 
his mind, who loves plain dealing, and who can be de- 
pended upon — choose an Englishman, by all means. 
This is what Englishmen say of themselves ; but whether 
such a magnificent character is really theirs or not, may 
perhaps be questioned. I cannot pretend to such an 
acquaintance with the natives of other countries, as 
would justify me in cither affirming or denying the truth 
of this very common opinion; therefore, I do neither 
affirm nor deny it; but I should like to know on what 
it is based, and what grounds Englishmen have for as- 
suming that, of all men, they are the purest in their 
dealings, and the most sincere in their speech. It's all 
very fine for people to blow their own trumpet; but still, 
self-praise is no great commendation. This only do I 



TELL THE TRUTH, AND SHAME THE DEVIL. 303 

know, that amongst Englishmen there is so large a pro- 
portion of men who are anything but straightforward, 
fair, and open — so large a proportion of deep, design- 
ing, crafty, guileful men, men thoroughly versed in all 
crooked ways — that, if other nations are, in these re- 
spects, worse, and more largely stored with such char- 
acters, they must be bad indeed. And certainly, until 
some better evidence than any I have yet seen is adduced, 
in proof of the superior truthfulness of the English 
character, I do not feel at all bound to fall in with the 
general notion, however grateful and nattering it may 
be ; but indeed, when I consider many of the facts which 
have recently been brought to light, demonstrating the 
existence of so many grossly dishonest practices in trade 
and commerce, I very much fear that, even if English- 
men have heretofore merited their reputation for truth- 
fulness, they are losing it as rapidly as they can. And 
I really think that a foreigner, after reading our news- 
papers, such as have been published during the last two 
or three years, to go no farther back, after observing 
the course of things amongst us — things political, things 
ecclesiastical, things commercial, and things criminal — 
I say a foreigner, after thus studying us as we depict 
ourselves, might be excused if he came to this conclusion, 
that the boasted straightforwardness and truthfulness of 
the English character is all a bag of moonshine, all self- 
righteous twaddle; ancf that deceit and duplicity and 
low cunning and scoundrelism of every description 
flourished as extensively in England as anywhere else in 
the world; nay, that in England, and among these truth- 
loving and lie-hating English, roguery had been culti- 



oO-t s FOB THE PEOPLE. 

I ton pi hitherto unknown amongst civilised 

1 think it is quite time to sing a little smaller 
than • ■■ done this Bong of ification. In 

point of honesty and veracity, we arc very little better, 
ren worse, than some of our neighbors. 
In anything low, dirty, shabby, and untrue, we have 
men amongst us whom we could back against all the 
world. You will challenge all nations to beat English- 
men in plain dealing? Now, my friend, be cautious; 
you will be much safer of winning, if you challenge all 
nations to beat Englishmen in knavery. 

It is a very common thing to meet with a man who 
boasts much of his straightforwardness and honesty. 
The probability is that he will insult you, and speak in 
a rough and most unkind manner. He calls that his 
blunt, open way. "I like plain dealing, I do; I say 
what I mean, and mean what I say; I don't mince mat- 
ters — not I, indeed; out with it — that's my motto; I'll 
have everything above-board, up right and down 
straight ; you see I am a plain-spoken John Bull — that's 
what I am." Now, I confess that I always suspect a 
man who blusters in that fashion about his straightfor- 
wardness. The love of truth, like piety and most other 
things, can very easily be counterfeited. John Bull, in- 
deed ! The wolf sometimes puts on the sheep's clothing, 
to make himself appear very mild and gentle; but the 
wolf sometimes puts on the bull's hide, and imitates the 
bull's bellowing, that he may seem to be that honest, 
straightforward creature, which the Englishman regards 
as his own best type and representative in the animal 
world. If a man is a John Bull, he knows very well 



AND SHAME THE DEVIL. 305 

that lie needs say nothing about it, and probably he will 
say nothing about it. I have known men obtain a great 
reputation for this straightforward, thoroughly honest 
character, who were as far as possible from deserving it, 
and, in fact, put on their straightforwardness as a mask 
and a cloak, to conceal their deep, and far-reaching, and 
over-reaching cunning. I think you may rely upon this 
— that the man who boasts of his bluntness, and tells 
you in a voice of thunder that, as for him, he is a plain- 
spoken John Bull, you may rely upon it that such a man 
is generally a great rascal. If other people give him a 
favorable character, well and good ; let us hope he de- 
serves it ; but most men of good sense will suspect the 
man who sounds his own perfections. And further, let 
it be observed that bluntness is not candor, rudeness is 
not straightforwardness, and bad manners are no evidence 
that a man is telling the truth. 

Now, instead of boasting that as a nation we love the 
truth and tell the truth, blurting it forth in our native 
unsophisticated style, not caring whether it pleases or 
displeases, it is much more sensible and much more hon- 
est to consider to what extent we as individuals are really 
truthful. That truthfulness is a virtue, and a virtue of 
a high order, that it is right, that it is in accordance to 
the will of God, every one will admit ; nay, even he, who, 
to his great misfortune, does not believe in a God, still 
believes that it is every man's duty to speak what 
he honestly believes to be true, and that it is wrong, 
utterly wrong, to utter the language of falsehood and 
deception. Excepting the criminal classes, there is no 

man, I suppose, who does not feel that to stand before 
20 



306 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

the world a convicted liar would he about the beavi 
-and foulest disgrace that could fall upon him. If there 
be not in every heart the love of truth, there is at least 
the desire to appear and to be reputed truthful ; of all 
insults, to have the lie direct given to any statement 
you have made is about the most unbearable. And yet, 
with all this love of a reputation for truthfulness and the 
impatience of everything that looks like a reflection upon 
our veracity, it is a fact that there is very much untruth- 
fulness in society, untruthfulness in various forms. How- 
ever admirable truth is in itself, still, the immediate re- 
sults of truthful speech and truthful conduct may be 
anything but pleasant and profitable; on the other hand, 
a lie often procures immediate deliverance from some 
evil, or immediate possession of something desirable. 
We ought to walk by faith— by faith in the ultimate 
blessedness of truth, but this faith all men have not at- 
tained to ; on the contrary, there is a very general belief 
in lies ; men believe that lies can make them rich, that 
lies can enable them to get on in the world, that lies can 
get them out of difficulties. They see lies doing these 
things for many men, and they think that for this world, 
at all events, honesty is not always the best policy; 
hence we are all more or less tempted to forsake the 
truth, to speak and to act untruthfully. 

Ministers of religion are not more free from this temp- 
tation than other men. Suppose, for instance, that a cler- 
gyman who has risen to high preferment in the Church 
felt some doubts and scruples as to some point of doctrine 
which he had subscribed to, and was expected to hold 
and defend, his position, with the certainty of losing it in 



TELL THE TRUTH, AND SHAME THE DEVIL. 307 

the event of his speaking out honestly all his convictions, 
would tempt him not to tell the truth. Not, however, 
to clergymen of a church established by law is this temp- 
tation confined ; its influence is just as powerful over 
other ministers of religion, whose position is dependent 
upon the will of a presbytery, or a conference, or a con- 
gregation, or, it may be, some one or two persons in the 
congregation. Possibly, if in his doctrinal discourses he 
were to speak out what he believes to be the truth, he 
would be considered heterodox ; and if in his practical 
discourses he dealt with perfect fidelity, he would be 
pronounced personal by some sinner whom the cap ex- 
actly fitted, for men do not like caps that fit very closely. 
Then, when a man, especially when a rich man, dies, his 
friends look for a funeral sermon, and the less good the 
man did in his life the more do they expect him to be 
extolled ; and precious productk-ns some of these funeral 
sermons are. In the Church of Rome a man cannot be 
canonized until at least fifty years after his death ; we 
Protestants canonize him the day after his funeral. If 
we must have such things as funeral sermons, I would 
submit that they be faithfully constructed on this princi- 
ple — "Tell the truth, and shame the Devil ;" tell all the 
truth ; if the dead man was a screw, let the fact come 
out ; if he was a hard master, let this be honestly de- 
clared ; if he made his fortune by crooked policy, let 
that policy be exposed; if he was ill-tempered, let some 
anecdotes be given illustrative of his bad temper ; and if 
he cannot be held up as an example, let him be held up 
as a warning. A faithful and thoroughly honest fune- 
ral sermon might be very useful ; but in this species of 



308 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

osition, the maxim, "Tell the truth, and shame the 
Devil," would certainly work a wondrous change, if 
boldly applied. But I need not enumerate the difficul- 
hich a i of religion meets with when he at- 

tempts to tell the truth — truth which is often so disa- 
ble to men; truth, to which thej will not listen 
mtly; truth which touches their besetting sins. We 
tempted to keep back the truth; and I dare say 
many ministers, indeed most of them, who know any- 
thing of themselves and their duty, are deeply and pain- 
fully conscious that they have not always told the truth 
and shamed the Devil, as they ought. In public, per- 
haps, it is not difficult to tell the truth, even the whole 
truth ; but in private grappling with individual conscien- 
ces, there's the difficulty. Easy enough to tell the truth 
to 1000 men, or to 10,000 ; but few tasks more difficult 
fall to the lot of morti 1 than to tell the truth to one 
man, and to be faithful, wise, and effective in expostu- 
lating with an individual soul. Don't suppose that the 
difficulty of telling the truth exists only in the region 
of commercial life, and that in urging this maxim upon 
you, I urge a maxim which I am not tempted to set aside 
and to shrink from, and that therefore I cannot sympathise 
with you in that struggle which telling the truth often ren- 
ders necessary, and in the wounded conscience which is 
the result of not telling the truth. I have often engaged 
in that struggle; I have again and again failed, and my 
conscience has smitten me; and to "tell the truth and 
shame the Devil" is one of the most arduous duties of 
my life, as it is of the life of every man who understands 
at all what his duties are. 



TELL THE TRUTH, AND SIIAME THE DEVIL. 309 

And like ministers of religion, perhaps in many cases 
far more severely than ministers of religion, men in 
business find it difficult to act upon this maxim. It 
would be well, however, if when a man gets into em- 
barrassed circumstances, he at once told the truth and 
shamed the Devil, instead of waiting, and scheming, and 
getting into a worse and worse position, until the truth 
tells itself and shames him. Undoubtedly it is a hard 
thing sometimes for a man in business to tell the truth 
when it ought to be told ; when his conscience, if not 
seared and blinded, tells him it ought to be told. *Many 
a man says in his heart, If I were to tell the truth, to 
make known the state of my affairs to those who have a 
right to know it, I should obtain no more credit, I should 
have no more goods forwarded to me, I should have to 
tell my creditors that I have been trading on false pre- 
tences, on fictitious capital. Tell the truth ! Nay, 
there are some who boldly maintain that it can't be 
done, that they can't afford to do it, that to tell the 
truth would be the high road to ruin. " What ! tell the 
truth about all that my barrels and bottles contain," 
says the licensed victualler; "tell the truth about all the 
doctoring and the drugging and the watering to which 
these precious mixtures are subjected ! why I should lose 
all my respectable customers, and have none left but 
the wretches who are prepared to take raw vitriol, so that 
it allays their thirst for the moment. No, no ; I can't 
afford to tell the truth ; pretty well, I think, if I tell no 
lies, and serve up the drink and say nothing about it." 
Nor would the druggist much relish telling the truth 
about the quack medicines which he sells ; to say to his 



310 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

. "Now, I tell you beforehand, you will find no 
i that life pill, no health in that pill of health. Gout 
and rheumatic pills ! Yes ; they may give you gout and 
rheumatism, but as to curing them, it is all nonsense. 
That balm won't cover your bald head with hair ; that 
won't take the freckles out of your face; that oil was 
• extracted from a cod's liver. All these testimoni- 
als that you see, about the cure of bad legs, bad eyes, 
sore throats, weak chests, and nobody knows what be- 
sides, all of them, without exception, were written out at 
a shilling a piece by some blackguard in a London pot- 
house." ° Tell the truth, Mr. Grocer ! " Hardly," says 
he ; " between you and me, and the post, it would not 
do at all to give the public a wrinkle of our trade : to 
tell all the truth about the tea, about the coffee, about 
the cayenne pepper. No ; go and tell my neighbor, the 
draper, to tell the truth ; he can afford to do it." But 
the draper, too, shrugs his shoulders, and says, " It's 
hard, it's very hard ; can't be done, sir, if I must speak 
; can't be done to make a profit ; the public is so in- 
lated in its rage for cheap bargains, that we must 
work the oracle, sir, in some way. It is the custom of 
the trade, sir, the acknowledged, recognised, established 
custom of the trade. I tell you this in confidence, sir. 
Tell the truth ! I try to do so ; at all events, I tell no 
lies, or if I do, they arc very white ones, sir, very white, 
white as the whitest piece of calico in my shop, sir. 
Bui step across to that cabinet-maker opposite, and ask 
him to tell the truth ; he sells such rascally rattletraps, 
they all come to pieces before they are well got into 
it house. Now, there's a man who really does need 



TELL THE TRUTH AND SHAME THE DEVIL. 311 

your advice." But the worthy cabinet-maker, in great 
wrath, tells us that he defies competition, that his is the 
best and cheapest house in the trade, that the public will 
have low priced goods, and therefore must have articles 
of an inferior class, and it's not his business to tell them 
how soon the things will tumble to bits. I do not select 
these trades, in an invidious spirit, as if they were re- 
markable for the trickery resorted to in conducting 
them ; nor do I in the least doubt that there are very 
many men in all trades who conduct their business with 
a strict regard to truth ; but I mention these instances 
just as illustrations of the difficulty which some men 
find in pursuing such a course. If lies were never gain- 
ful, if knavery always defeated itself, if truth in all cases 
brought an immediate advantage, there would be no 
temptation to deviate into the crooked paths of dissimu- 
lation ; but the fact is, that falsehood often pays better 
than truth, gets rich while truth starves, lives in splen- 
dor while truth can scarcely make a living at all. 

But, however gainful lies may be, we have the strong 
and decided testimony of every man's conscience against 
them. Every man feels that it is a base, degrading, and 
cowardly thing to tell a lie. There is no sin against 
which the Bible protests more earnestly or more fre- 
quently than this. It assures us that " lying lips are 
an abomination to the Lord" — that "the getting of 
treasures by a lying tongue, is a vanity tossed to and 
fro of them that seek death " — that " all liars shall have 
their portion in the lake that burneth with fire and brim- 
stone." On the other hand, the Scriptures abound with 
encouragements and promises for the man of truth. 



31 2 PEOPLE. 

w Lord, who shall al ide in thy tabernacle, who shall 
dwell on thy holy bill? He that walketh uprightly, 
and worketh righteousness, and Bpeaketh the truth in 
his heart. He that Bweareth to his own hurt, and 
changeth not. He that doeth these things shall never 

moved." No one will ask, Why should I tell the 
truth ? If such a question be asked, we have an answer, 
we have many answers at hand, but this * should be 
enough — Tell the truth because you know that it is 
right. No argument, however, is necessary to demon- 
strate that lying is sinful and shameful, and in the end. 
injurious, yea, ruinous. You may ask, How do we 
shame the Devil when we speak the truth ? — for, as an 
able writer observes, " This saying may seem to contra- 
dict the actual experience of things, for how often tell- 
ing the truth, confessing, that is, some great fault, 
taking home to ourselves, it may be, some grievous sin, 
would appear anything rather than shaming the Devil ! 
shaming indeed ourselves, but rather bringing glory to 
him whose glory, such as it is, is in the sin and shame 
of men." But do you not see how every lie glorifies him 
who is the father of lies ? What honor is done to the 
Devil by every falsehood ? Hence every untruth is an 
act of obedience to him, a truckling to his influence, a 
homage paid at his throne. It is his delight to deceive, 
and instigate othi e adoption of deceitful practi- 

just as God is honor nth, the Devil is hon- 

I by lies. So, when the truth is told, and especially 
when it is told in the face of a strong temptation to the 
contrary ; when it is told at a sacrifice, and the telling 
of it involve us in difficulty and in loss, which by a lie 



TELL THE TRUTH AND SHAME THE DEVIL. 313 

we might have escaped, the Devil is put to shame ; it is 
demonstrated that he is not altogether our master, that 
he does not altogether lord it over our consciences ; we 
have set him at defiance, we have resisted him, we have 
conquered him, we have put him to an ignominious 
flight ; and so, however disgraceful to ourselves the facts 
confessed may be, the confession of them is an honor to 
us ; yea, the more disgraceful the facts, the more to our 
honor is the confession, and the Devil is shamed. 

But to whom shall we tell the truth ? Tell it to your- 
self ; tell it to your neighbor; tell it to your God. "To 
myself? There's no difficulty about that!" Is there 
not ? Are you sure ? Think the matter over, and you 
will find that you are very unwilling to tell yourself the 
truth, the whole truth, about yourself. Men do not like 
to think about their sins, or to acknowledge even to them- 
selves that they have clone wrong ; and accordingly they 
do all in their power to stifle the voice of conscience, and 
to excuse themselves to themselves ; to make the worse 
appear to themselves the better reason ; to find out an 
apology for this and a justification of that : and when 
we cannot thus impose upon our consciences, we try to 
banish from our mind all reflection upon the past and all 
thoughts of the future. It is often most unpleasant, most 
humbling, most tormenting, to tell ourselves the truth. 
Let the drunkard try to do it, let the profligate try to do 
it, let the man who by his misconduct has ruined himself 
for life try to do it. Let him faithfully tell himself the 
whole truth ; tell himself what a fool he has been, how 
he has missed his way, how he has degraded himself; let 
him tell himself what retribution there is laid up in store 



314 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

for him. Let the rich man who knows that he has made 
his money by unfair means tell himself the truth, let him 
t upon the moral bearings of those transactions 
which have raised him to wealth, let him tell his own soul 
of that account which must be given of the deeds done 
in the hodj. Yes : and let the minister of religion com- 
mune with his own heart, and tell himself the truth ; tell 
himself of his own insincerity ; of his own innumerable 
shortcomings, of the opportunities of doing good which 
he has allowed to slip away, of his want of courage and 
faithfulness in dealing with men's sins, of the worldly 
motives which have often influenced him, of the hours he 
has spent in Idleness, of the men whom he has suffered 
to die unwarned and unbesought, of the account which 
he must give of his stewardship. My friends, I for one 
feel that it is not an easy thing, much less a pleasant 
thing, to speak the truth to one's-self. When a man 
knows that his affairs are embarrassed, he does not rel- 
ish the task of looking into them, he hates the sight 
of his books, he cannot bear the thought of telling him- 
self the truth. So it is with reference to morals also. 
If we know anything of ourselves, of that account which 
exists between us and God, we know that it does not 
stand square ; we know that self-examination would dis- 
close many a terrible fact ; and therefore we shrink from 
telling ourselves the truth, and try to tell ourselves some 
falsehood, try to make it appear to ourselves that we are 
better than we really are. Don't say there is no diffi- 
culty aboui telling yourself the truth, few tilings are 
more diffi '• things are less frequently done. 

Nev< rtancc that it should be done, 



TELL THE TRUTH AND SHAME THE DEVIL. 815 

that we should not deceive ourselves, that we should 
boldly and honestly ascertain how we stand. And I ask 
you each one, on retiring hence, just to do this, to be 
faithful and straightforward, each one with himself, to 
take stock honestly of his own life and character, and 
ascertain how he stands, for time and for eternity. 

Then tell the truth to your neighbor ; I do not mean 
that you are to tell your neighbor the results of that self- 
examination of which I have just spoken ; your neighbor 
has nothing to do with- that, unless you find that you 
have wronged him. But in all the transactions of busi- 
ness, tell the truth. If you are not worth twenty shil- 
lings in the pound, call your creditors together and tell 
them so at once ;— they ought to know it ; you have no 
right to endanger their property and keep them in igno- 
rance of the fact. If the food you sell is adulterated, 
let your customer know it ; give him a faithful account 
of the ingredients and proportions, and then if he buys, 
he does so on his own responsibility and not on yours. 
Whatever be the transaction, just tell the truth as to the 
quantity, quality, and make of the article ; let there be 
no deception or trick of any kind, no advantage taken 
of any person's ignorance. If the people will have 
cheap articles, let them have them by all means, but tell 
them honestly that these articles are the rubbish that they 
really are. Working men are not very much exposed to 
the temptation to withhold the truth but still they some- 
times bring themselves into such a position as renders 
the telling of the truth rather difficult ; when they have 
stayed away from their work, spending their time in 
drinking and dissipation. On returning to their em- 



316 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

ployer, the usual excuse is that they have been very ill ; 
and ill, perhaps, they have been ; but this is only a part 
of the truth; out with it all, confess that you made your- 
self ill ; acknowledge that you have been drinking ; and 
depend upon it, that whether you acknowledge it or not, 
you will not impose on an employer who has his wits 
about him. You say, if you tell the truth you'll be 
sacked ; perhaps you will be sacked whether you tell the 
truth or not ; and more probably in the latter case; for, 
though your employer might overlook your intemperance, 
if he suspects that you are a liar he will scarcely tolerate 
your presence, if he can do without you. You would be 
ashamed to tell the truth ? Well, but whatever disgrace 
may attach to the sin that tempts you to lie, the lie is 
more disgraceful still. The scriptural command is, "put- 
ting away lying, speak every man truth with his neigh- 
bor;" and this is a rule which our consciences tell us 
admits of no exception. Certainly there are truths which 
my neighbor has no right to know ; I may be aware of 
the fact that such or such a person is intemperate, idle, 
dishonest; but I am not to tell this to every bod\, nor, 
indeed, to any body, excepting the man who by employ- 
in: such a person might suffer from ignorance of his 
character. But our consciences will inform us with tol- 
erahle accuracy what truth we ought to tell our neighbor; 
our consciences will inform as that in all transactions 
which involve either profit or loss, there ought to be a full, 
cL ar, distinctj and unreserved communication of the truth. 
Ail very fine. Bay you. but it can't be done. Well, then. 
if it can't be done, we can'1 be Christians, we can't be 
saved, we musl be damned — for into that holy city, 



TELL THE TRUTH AND SHAME THE DEVIL. 317 

the New Jerusalem, " there shall in no wise enter any- 
thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomina- 
tion, or maketh a lie." If a man says, I must tell lies, 
at all events I cannot afford to tell the whole truth, I 
must sometimes hold a candle to the Devil. Well, then, 
it is my duty to tell that man that he must go to the 
Devil, and that there's nothing else for him. 

Tell the truth to yourself, tell it to your neighbor, tell 
it also to your God. God knows the truth, for to him 
"all hearts are open, all desires known, and from Him 
no secrets are hid." Not by way of giving him any in- 
formation are we to tell the truth to Him, but as one 
mean of obtaining pardon. "If we confess our sins, 
He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to 
cleanse us from all unrighteousness." Now here it is 
that we see the deep meaning of this proverb, and per- 
ceive how by telling the truth we shame the Devil. It 
would be the Devil's glory to keep upon us the burden 
and defilement of our sins, and so to secure our eternal 
ruin. Now, when we confess our sins, what is this but 
telling the truth to God? and on doing this, we have the 
promise that He will forgive us and cleanse us from all 
unrighteousness. So, by telling the truth, telling it to 
God, in free, full, penitential confession, we deprive the 
Devil of his victory, we disappoint his hopes, we are freed 
from that condemnation into which he thought to bring 
us; and so he is shamed, and gnashes his teeth with 
rage, when a man tells the truth to God. Yes ; tell it 
to Him who promises to forgive, to cleanse, to save — 
and who, by the death of His Son, has made provision 
for the pardon of all who confess their faults. Tell God 



318 LBCTUKl 

the truth, however that truth may tell to your own dis- 
credit; however shameful may be the facts confess 
keep nothing back, attempt to justify nothing, to excuse 

nothing; take to yourself your full share of blame, don't 

ke out a good case for yourself; God knows 

all. Do you honestly tell Him all : and let your con- 

n tally with His knowledge of what ought to be 

confessed. 

And now you will say, perhaps, that the telling of the 
truth requires great sacrifices to be made; and I admit 
that it does, and that in all ages it has been so. But the 
sacrifice you may have to make is as nothing, compared 
with those which have been made by others. For the 
truth's sake, men have submitted to every kind of hard- 
ship, insult, and suffering. "The goodly fellowship of 
the prophets, the glorious company of the apostles, the 
noble army of martyrs," were all men who "told the 
truth, and shamed the Devil." They suffered the loss of 
all things, and sealed their testimony with their blood, 
because they would tell forth God's truth, and put the 
spirit of falsehood to shame. Nay, more — (I say it 
with reverence, but with confidence in the truth of what 
I Ba y) — this wafl w hat Christ did upon the earth ; he told 
the truth and shamed the Devil. By the manifestation 
of the truth he inflicted on the Devil's kingdom a blow, 
under the effects of which it is still staggering, and will 
stagger, to its fall. Sacrifice^ for the truth ! consider what 
- have been made, and how you honor the men, and 
cannot but honor the men, who made them, and thereby 
proved themselves the noblest of our race. They told 
the truth, knowing well what the consequences would be 



AND SHAME THE DEVIL. 319 

— that their truthfulness would lead them to poverty, to 
prison, to the rack, and to the flames. They made their 
choice, and we approve their choice; and, however un- 
willing to imitate their example, we feel that they acted 
wisely, and well. And now, if homage to the truth de- 
mands some sacrifice, let us not complain, let us not 
shrink. I admit that it may be inconvenient to tell the 
truth; but we must bear with the inconvenience. I 
grant that it may be a pecuniary loss to tell the truth ; 
but we must endure that loss. It is very possible that 
great gain might arise from some deceptive practice; 
but that gain is the wages of sin, and must not be 
coveted. " What shall it profit a man if he gain the 
whole world, and lose his own soul?" It is the way of 
the world not to speak the truth; but we must not follow 
a multitude to do evil. No apology is more common 
than this. The sanction of custom is pleaded for prac- 
tices that are utterly inconsistent with truth ; but no man 
of common sense can urge this plea, without knowing 
perfectly well that it is absurdly false. Two blacks can- 
not make one white ; two million blacks cannot make one 
white. Custom may give laws to dress, and regulate the 
usages of etiquette; but custom, however ancient, and 
however widely recognised, can never make wrong right, 
can never justify, or in the least degree extenuate, a lie. 
Let us have faith in truth, and trust it at all times. If 
falsehood offer you gold, and truth can't afford you a 
copper; if falsehood would conduct you to a palace, and 
truth lead you to a hovel — still, if you would live hon- 
orably and die peacefully, choose the truth for your 
friend and guide. "Buy the truth," says Solomon, 



320 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

"and Fell it not." Let it be yours, whatever it cost— 

many men have bought it with their lives— and d 
sell it for all the riches and pleasure that falsehood can 
command; you might as well sell your soul at once. I 
know that the truth is sold— sold in all the markets in 
the world; it was sold yesterday, and it will be sold a 
to-morrow. It is sold by every man who tells a lie, who 
equivocates, who keeps back any part of the truth which 
it is his duty to make known. It is sold by words, it is 
sold by gestures; it is sold by silence as well as by 
speech! by innuendo as well as by bold statements; it is 
sold at all prices. One man— a merchant, perhaps— 
won't sell it for less than £100 ; another— a free, inde- 
pendent elector— will sell it at a polling-booth for the 
price of a glass of gin. Buy the truth; you will never 
repent of your bargain, however great its cost; but if 
you sell it even for a throne, you'll be a loser. "Let 
the clock of the tongue be set by the dial of the heart," 
and let the dial of the heart be shone upon by the Sun 
of Righteousness. Then you will know the truth, you 
will love the truth, you will tell the truth, and put the 
Devil to shame. And her I will prove yourselves 

brave men; for, to speak the truth under all circum- 
1 in the face of all risks, requires more 
courage than is demanded on the field of battle. Of all 
the valiant men in the world, let him be chief who dares 
to tell the truth ! 



THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 321 



LECTURE XVII 



THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 

It is very generally felt that the subject which I have 
selected for this afternoon's lecture, is one, the public 
exposition of which is sternly forbidden by the laws of 
propriety and the principles of modern refinement. 
Probably the discussion of such a topic will be most 
vehemently objected to by those who are conscious of 
having violated, if not the letter, the spirit of this law ; 
for prudery is generally nothing more than impurity in a 
cloak; and "ill-deemers," says the proverb, "are com- 
monly ill-doers." If, however, we are to be guided, not 
by simpering sentimentalists, but by the greatest teachers 
of religion and morals that the world has ever seen, we 
shall not shrink from openly speaking of the sins pro- 
hibited by the Seventh Commandment. For this, we 
have the authority and example of Moses, who, again 
and again, in those laws which he was divinely commanded 
to proclaim, forbids all manner of uncleanness. Solomon, 
too, in his Proverbs, takes care that this subject shall 
not pass unnoticed; and if he had passed it by, the credit 
which he has received for extraordinary wisdom would be 
very considerably shaken. The Apostle Paul goes still 
21 



322 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

further into particulars, and does not shrink from exposing 
and denouncing the horrible immoralities of his age ; and 
the King of Teachers, the Lord Jesus Christ — against 
the purity of whose heart no man dares breathe a 
suspicion— spoke more plainly, perhaps, than any other, 
against the violation of the Seventh Commandment. 
Under the sanction of such precedents as these, a 
Christian minister is safe, and can afford to despise the 
objections of the fastidious. Of all the cavils trumped 
up by sceptics against the Bible, I know of none more 
contemptible than that which complains that the Scrip- 
tures speak out too clearly on this subject. It strikes 
me that, by speaking on this subject as they do, the 
sacred writers show their honesty, their faithfulness, their 
moral courage, and their thorough knowledge of human 
nature. The Scriptures profess to control and regulate 
all the passions of our hearts; and they would be 
wretchedly incomplete, if they did not protest boldly 
against the abuse of the very strongest of these passions. 
Nay, if they did not so protest, I feel very strongly 
persuaded that scepticism would complain more loudly, 
and with far better reason, against the absence of such 
protestation, than it now complains of its existence in 
the book. Scepticism would say, and might with justice 
say, "These men, who profess to be inspired teachers of 
humanity, know little of man; they Lave inveighed 
againsl his proneness to idolatry, they have attacked his 
pride, they have Bought to check his covetousness. So 
far, well; but it is a Btrange, an important, an unpar- 
donable omission, that they have allowed his lustful 
propensities to pass unnoticed." I would ask the sceptic 



THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 323 

whether his knowledge of the world, however limited, or 
even his knowledge of himself, to say no more, does not 
teach him that a book, which professes to tell men their 
duty to God and to each other, ought to contain precisely 
such bold and outspoken denunciations of licentiousness 
as are to be found in the Bible, and to be found, I believe, 
nowhere else. 

But it may be asked, Did not the writers of the Bible 
write for a state of society very different from ours ? 
Were not sins of this description more prevalent, and 
their sinfulness less clearly recognised, than now ? The 
state of society was undoubtedly in many respects very 
different, and sins of this class were possibly more 
common, and men might be less sensible of the guilt of 
such practices ; but the same passions are burning in the 
human heart, and the same evils exist to an extent that 
is perfectly frightful. Taking the Commandment in its 
literal and most limited sense, as implying only infidelity 
to the marriage vow, the violation of the law is far from 
uncommon. There are not a few married women, of an 
utterly dissolute character, as our police reports often 
abundantly testify ; and there are numbers of married 
men, some of whom stand high in society, who are 
amongst the most constant frequenters of the brothel, 
and the most zealous patrons of the prostitute. But the 
command, "Thou shalt not commit adultery," must not 
be limited in this manner. It includes far more within 
its prohibitory range, than the violation of the marriage 
vow. Rightly understood, the Seventh Commandment 
forbids all fornication. The extent to which this sin 
prevails cannot, of course, be accurately determined; but 



324 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

: t is a significant and very fearful fact, that one in every 
twelve of the unmarried women of this country has 
strayed from the path of virtue.* And if women, with 
so many prudential motives to resist temptation, with 
ace, poverty, ruin before them, transgress in such 
numbers, it is very evident that men, who have no such 
consequences to dread, whom society thinks none the 
worse of for their dissipation, and who consider chastity, 
rather than unchastity, a matter of reproach— I say it is 
very evident that men violate this law in very much 
larger numbers. Taking into account the very different 
treatment which a young man's violation of this law 
meets with from the world, compared with that expe- 
rienced by the woman who allows herself to be seduced ; 
remembering that in the one case the sin will be, at the 
very worst, soon forgiven and forgotten even by the 
most severe moralists, that in the other case, the moral 
and the immoral alike will sternly withhold forgiveness, 
make not the slightest allowance, but consign the sinner 

*In the your L851, 12.000 children were born alive in England 

and Wales upon a total of 2,4 t9,669 unmarried won.- n. an* og whom 

widows were included lor the purposes of calculation, between the 

,,■ fifteen and fifty-five, or 1-7 per cent. Each of these mothers 

taken the first stop in prostitution; and conceding to each the 

trifllii tion of five years of unreformed life, wo shall find that 

•jio, in twelve, of the unmarried females in the country, 

:i , )m of puberty, ha 1 d from the path of virtue. 

This approximation may be objected to as erroneous, inasmuch as one 

woman may have two. three, or four illegitimate children ; but this is 

balanced by the undoubted fad that an enormous number of illicit 

Clllll . Pfl unfruitful, or result in premature or unregistered 

birth>. 



THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 325 

to an infamy from which recovery is all but impossible— 
I cannot but suppose that if the commandment is broken 
by one unmarried woman out of twelve, a double propor- 
tion will scarcely be too great to measure the extent to 
which this law is violated by men, married and unmarried; 
not one in twelve, but, at the very least, one in six, may 
be presumed to be involved in this great and abominable 
sin. And when I state that there is every reason to 
suppose that one man in six is so destitute of moral 
principle and moral strength, as to indulge more or less 
in the lawless gratification of his lust, I am far above the 
mark which is adopted by the gay and dissipated them- 
selves. For you are well aware that people of this sort 
regard it quite as a matter of course that a man, an un- 
married man, and especially a young man, should set the 
Seventh Commandment at defiance. The common expres- 
sion is, "It's what everybody does." I do not believe 
this; I rather believe that there are thousands of young 
men whom a fear of the physical results of dissipation, or 
a highly intellectual disposition, or a sense of self-respect, 
or the higher and better motive, reverence for the law 
of God, preserves from this great sin— thousands who 
keep their bodies in temperance, soberness, and chastity, 
who keep out of the way of temptation, or, if exposed to 
it, have the strength to overcome it; but still the common 
postulate, "It's what everybody does," though not true, 
though, as I believe, far from true, is tremendously 
significant, and justifies us in concluding that our pro- 
portion of one in six is no exaggeration, that in all 
probability a far larger number have sinned and done 
this evil in God's sight. 



326 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

Perhaps, however, as you hear this commandment 
given by your Creator, — "Thou shalt not commit adul- 
.'' you are ready to say, "God, I thank thee that 
I am not as other men, * * adulterers." If it be so, 
if you have not violated the letter of this law, if you 
have been sheltered from temptation, or had the pru- 
dence, the good sense, the manliness, the moral power, 
the religious principle to resist temptation, let God be 
thanked for enabling you to resist fornication and un- 
cleanness, and so far to keep yourself in sanctification 
and in honor. If you recoil with disgust from the house 
of ill-fame, and spurn with indignation and loathing the 
solicitations of the flaunting harlot, so far well; let God 
be thanked that you have not become the dupe and the 
victim of the unhappy creature who, through whatever 
cause, "has forsaken the guide of her youth, and for- 
gotten the covenant of her God." If you have never 
tampered with female innocence, nor attempted to cor- 
rupt unsophisticated and unsuspecting virtue, so far 
veil; let God be thanked that you have not to answer 
for the most enormous of all crimes — a crime greater 
than theft, greater than perjury, greater than murder — 
little as the seducer thinks of it. But let us deal hon- 
estly with this matter. The law, as given by Moses, is, 
"Thou shalt not commit adultery;" but Jesus Christ, 
one of whose objects in coining to the world was to teach 
US how to fulfdl the law in spirit and in truth, gives this 
version of the seventh commandment, " Whosoever look- 
eth upon a woman to lust after her, hath committed 
adultery with her already in his heart." Now, if we 
appeal to our consciences, we shall not find ourselves so 



THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 827 

clear of this sin as, while contemplating the law in its 
letter, we might suppose. The law is not merely " Thou 
shalt not commit adultery;" it is this, Thou shalt not 
lust. And what a frightful and disgraceful exposure it 
would he, if all our hearts were laid open to each other, 
and all the secret thoughts and hidden desires discoveied, 
and all the half-smothered flames of lust brought to 
view ! How many persons of unexceptionable outward 
life would stand confessed as whited sepulchres, full of 
all uncleanness ! If the law in its letter is violated by 
so many thousands, who shall calculate by how many 
thousands more it is violated in its spirit ? Don't boast, 
then, that you have kept this law; for, taking Christ's 
exposition of it, which is the true one, you have not 
kept it ; there is no law more commonly violated. 

The evil results of this sin are too serious, too great, 
too startling to be discussed on an occasion like the 
present; we can only glance at them for a moment. 
One result is, that a very large number of our fellow- 
creatures, our sisters, who, in their natural and rightful 
position, would be useful, virtuous, and happy wives and 
mothers, filling thousands of homes with comfort and 
gladness, are consigned to vice and wretchedness and 
infamy, in which many of them perish, from which com- 
paratively few recover. Another evil, but one of far 
less magnitude, is the frightful disease which this vice 
produces, and which proves it to be as certainly a viola- 
tion of natural as of moral law. If you ask how I know 
that a life of dissipation is wrong, utterly wrong, I reply, 
I know this, not merely because God says so in his word, 
but because he says so also in the constitution of the 



328 LBOTUBBS FOR THE TEOrLE. 

Unman frame. E of the direful physical results 

of '.' Q enforcement of the command, 

imit adultery." And it is to ho 
ind suffers as much as the body; 
nervousn and lose f memory 

are among fche penalties. Truly the ways of transgres- 
sors are hard. You say in your songs — 

" Let as lead a life of pleasure, 
"Without mixture, without measure;" 

but Nature says, No; you shan't. Nature says, Your 
pleasure shall be mixed with misery; there shall be 
vinegar and gall and wormwood in your cup. I will 
make it a cup of trembling and of wrath. You shall 
lead a life of pleasure only on condition of your leading 
a life of virtue ; her ways, and her ways only, are ways 
of pleasantness. But let us suppose that by virtue of a 
strong constitution, which every half-grown youth, when 
he enters a career of dissipation, believes that he pos- 
sesses, — let us suppose that those horrible physical 
results are escaped, or that they are experienced in a 
very slight degree, and soon overcome; it may be all the 
worse for a man; he is thus freed from one restraining 
influence, and becomes bolder, and more confirmed in 
vice. These physical effects may be regarded as a pun- 
ishment; at the same time they are designed to be a pre- 
ventive; they are not merely the whip of chastisement; 
they are also the bridle of restraint; and if the medical 
practitioner, regular or irregular, were to discover a safe, 
easy, cheap, and infallible cure for such diseases, it 
would be a great curse, rather than a blessing The 



THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 829 

more intractable these diseases arc, the better; their in- 
fluence to deter is all the stronger. He who escapes 
them thinks that he can sin with impunity, but the evil 
results are seen in his moral nature ; for, as Burns says 
of this sin, 

" It hardens all the heart, 
And petrifies the feelings." 

In fact, one of the greatest evils connected with this 
class of sins is, that by many, and especially by those 
guilty of them, they are scarcely regarded as sins at all; 
they are the very natural, very pardonable, and altoge- 
ther inevitable excesses of youth ; they are follies; they 
are indiscretions ; they are anything but black and 
abominable crimes against the law of God and the proper 
order of society. It has been said that in the higher 
circles of society a man is obliged to keep a mistress, 
lest he should be laughed at for his puritanism. This, I 
have no doubt, is an exaggeration ; but it is true enough 
that with some it is a qualification of the complete and 
fully accomplished gentleman to be a sed.-cer; and the 
virtuous man— virtuous as it respects this department of 
character— is despised as a slow, spiritless, dull creature. 
Accuse a man of lying, and he will knock you down ; 
call him a thief, and he will be ready to put a bullet 
through your heart ; tell him that he has seduced an in- 
nocent girl, and he will feel flattered, rather than of- 
fended. Here we see the hollowness of the world's mor- 
ality, and the rottenness of what the world calls honor. 
If you get drunk on beer or rum in a pot-house, the 
world will call you a blackguard ; if you get drunk on 
champagne and port at the house of a wealthy friend, 



330 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

the world -will call you a gentleman who is rather fond 
of good living ; if, in a state of hunger and destitution, 
you steal a loaf, the world will call you a rascal, and 
Bend you to prison; if you eat with your knife, you will 
be considered scarcely eligible to mingle with good so- 
; but if you rob a young woman of her virtue, 
break her father's and her mother's heart, and drive her 
to the street, the world will almost congratulate you 
upon your success, and accept it as a proof that you are 
a man of spirit, and a jolly good fellow. This, the most 
daring of all crimes, is regarded rather as a joke ; some- 
thing to talk of with glee and gusto ; something to afford 
a subject for banter and merriment. In fact, the Se- 
venth Commandment is one of which a very large pro- 
portion of men are proud to be able to say, " I have 
broken it, and set it at nought." 

But not only do great numbers of men think little of 
the sinfulness of such dissipation, they have the temerity 
to stand on the defensive. " We arc constituted with 
strong passions, which desire and crave their gratifica- 
tion. It is God that made us, and not we ourselves. 
To use the language of the phrenologist, our animal pro- 
pensities are very lamely developed, and we can't help 
that ; if there be a God, we are just what he has seen fit 
t«» make us." This argument, however, if it proves any- 
thing, pri if it be a valid apology, it will 
;1 sin. The thief may plead his large acquisi- 
tiveness and small conscientii the murderer may 
plead his huge bump of destructiveness ; the man who 
is utterly neglectful of all religious duty may exclaim, 
"Oh, I have no organ of veneration." I am fully pre- 



THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 331 

pared to admit that there are great differences of consti^ 
tution and of temperament ; I am prepared to admit 
that there may be corresponding differences of moral 
obligation. That which is to one a strong temptation 
may be no temptation to another. The object which 
kindles in one breast a flame of vehement desire produces 
in another the feeling of intense disgust; and a man of 
cold and unexcitable temperament ought not to deal too 
severely with a man of the very opposite disposition. 
But I am not so sure that we are what God made us. I 
do not think that any of us are exactly what God made 
us; we are, to a great extent, physically, mentally, and 
morally what we have made ourselves. You broken- 
down, haggard victim of dissipation, with your trembling 
hands and emaciated limbs and bloated face and fiery 
nose and shattered nerves, do you mean to tell me that 
you are what God made you ? It would be a libel on 
the Creator to say that he ever made such a thing as 
you are. No ! you are what you have made yourself, 
what you have been at great cost to make yourself, day 
by day and night by night, through a long, or perhaps 
a short, career of intemperance and profligacy. Your 
body is worn out— you have worn it out yourself; your 
mind is enfeebled— you have enfeebled it yourself; you 
are nearly an idiot— you have done all in your power to 
make yourself an idiot, and, unless you speedily reform, 
you will soon complete the process. You tell me that 
your animal passions are ungovernable, that you cannot 
resist temptation. How comes this to pass ? « Oh, I 
was so constituted." So constituted ! nonsense ! I tell 
you there was a time— don't you remember it ?— when 



LECTUKE3 FOR TIIE PEOrLE. 






you could have resisted temptation if you would; but 
you indulged your passions, and with every indulgence 
your passions ' 1 strength, became m lore 

clamorous, until, like spoiled children, they gained the 
masr , you. There was a time when you might 

have erT] viper, trodden upon it, killed it ; but 

you took it to your bosom and cherished it. Now, after 
making a ruin of yourself, in body, intellect, and heart, 
you stand forth in this dilapidated condition, and say, 
« I am as God made me." My friend, don't utter such 
blasphemy ; lay the blame upon your parents, upon your 
schoolmasters, upon your religious instructors, upon 
your companions, upon society, and upon yourself, but 
never venture to reproach God— never think of find- 
ing in what you call your natural constitution an apology 
for sin. For,, tell me, How far is that viciously inclined 
constitution natural, and how far is it artificial? Think 
of that: think of the training and the treatment which 
rent you have given to your constitu- 
tion might as reasonably attribute 
Qness of their feet to a peculiarity of their natu- 
ral ( the tatooed savage might as fairly im- 
pute the marks on his skin to some mystery of his natu- 
ral constitution. Let us have none of this nonsense; 
Ltects of our fortunes; we are the archi- 
tec1 . rs too. From the one block of mar- 
can carve an image of Minerva or a fi- 
gur ance which we call 

able for a man, through 
, form a character admirable and good, 



THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 333 

and on the other hand, apart from God's blessing, a to 
form a character despicable and altogether bad. 

How are these sins of licentiousness in heart and life 
to be avoided ? In other words, How are we to keep the 
Seventh Commandment — to keep it in the spirit as well 
as in the letter ? In the first place, there is, or certainly 
ought to be, the restraining power of conscience. ISTow 
that not only Moses, but also Christ has spoken, we know 
what is right and what is wrong. The man who is ac- 
customed to make light of this class of sins, if he will 
but reflect, must arrive at this conclusion, that they are 
sins, and not trivial sins by any means. If he take no 
better guide than philosophy, he will find that they are 
sins. If he takes the Bible for his counsellor, if he is 
disposed to pay the slightest deference to its decision, he 
will find that " whoremongers and adulterers God will 
judge." Evil thoughts will arise, bad passions will bestir 
themselves ; this is perhaps unavoidable ; but we know 
that to cherish such thoughts and passions, to encourage 
them, to dwell upon them, is wrong. And this ought to 
be enough; the best, the purest argument against any sin 
is that it is a sin. And if conscience had its proper 
place and proper power in our hearts, its decision would 
be final, and from its court there would be no appeal. 
" How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against 
God?" was argument enough for Joseph, and ought to 
be argument enough for every man. But you say, and 
say truly enough, that conscience is not powerful enough 
to cope with passion. If, however, a man begins life on 
this principle of compelling all passion to submit to con- 
science, conscience will retain its sovereignty, and pas- 



334 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

Bion will be checked; the evil is that passion is gratified, 
B agthened, and then conscience is called m, 
and proves too weak for its adversary. 

Lon to conscience, there is God's 
™<e and holy ordinance of marriage, of which St. Paul, 
3 e and honest man, with great plainness of speech, 
avoid fornication, let every man have his own 
and let every woman have her own husband." But 
in this matter the thing called society is very much to 
blame. Societv very gravely and very solemnly sets its 
hard, worldly-looking, calculating face against early 
marriage, counting it a source of great misery. Misery, 
in a world where God has provided abundance for us all; 
rid capable of sustaining a hundred times its present 
population ! There must be something miserably wrong 
in our social svstem if a young man of intelligence and 
virtue cannot make so much by his industry as shall sup- 
a family. That he will have to struggle hard is very 
jible ; but do vou call it an evil thing that a man has 
- ; le in the world, and that every crust he eats 
eaten in the sweat of his face ? Why, it is the 
-. the happiest, and best life of all, is this life of 
tt d the man who is afraid of it is beneath 
. Bui Id, hard-meed Society shrugs its 
- wondrous - that be- 

animportanl a this, he ought 

impetence, and be able to live re- 
Mv friends, our i - bility is killing us. 

,,re immoral than our respecta- 
etability that prompts 
l fi f commercial dishonesty, of which 



THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 335 

so many specimens are continually coming to light. So- 
ciety can see nothing respectable in virtuous poverty, but 
can respect an affluence which secretly indulges in licen- 
tiousness. Society is quite content that the daughters 
of the poor should be sacrificed, in order that its wealthy 
sons may gratify their lust, and escape the cares and 
struggles of an early married life. Well, if society, with 
its notions of respectability, will contravene the imperi- 
ous laws of nature, and set at naught an ordinance of 
God, it must abide the consequences, and the conse- 
quences are tremendous. 

Further, to teach us how to avoid these sins of heart 
and life, our Saviour lays down this rule, " If thy right 
eye offend thee, pluck it out and cast it from thee. * If 
thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee ; 
it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should 
perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into 
hell." If I understand this rule aright, it means that 
the utmost self-denial must be resolutely and rigorously 
exercised, and everything be carefully avoided that 
would encourage us, or tempt us to these sins. But you 
ask, What is the right eye, what the right hand ? Give 
us some plain, practical illustrations of this plucking 
out, this cutting off. What does it all mean, when 
stripped of its figurative dress ? I will try to tell you 
what I think may be regarded as right eyes and right 
hands, which cause us to offend against this law. There 
is a large class of books, for the most part fictions, which 
are demoralizing in their tendency. Some of them are 
obscene and beastly ; others are just barely licentious, 
and these are by far the most dangerous. They detail 



336 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

the arts and wiles of the seducer, the intrigues of men 
of fashion, the suhtleties of abandoned women. The 
demand for such hooks is enormous; I do not hesi- 
to say that they form a large proportion of the 
books sold at our railway stations ; a book-stall at a rail- 
station is one of the most mournful exhibitions ; it 
discovers a most wretched and debilitated taste on the part 
of the traveling public. I do not say that there is any- 
thing positively indecent or grossly immoral, but on that 
stand there are scores of works which suggest and fos- 
ter bad thoughts, or, at all events, fill the mind with 
vanity and folly. From the cheap London press there 
^ssue every week, hundreds of thousands of periodicals, 
which consist of stale romances, pictures of illicit love, 
and scenes of disgusting infamy. Well, the passion for 
Mich books is intense ; to give them up would be to 
many an act of self-denial, a cutting off of the right 
hand. If any of my hearers have contracted this habit 
of reading bad books, works which, while not obscene, 
familiarise the mind with vice, and pander to a prurient 
; in your case they are the right eye 
that should be plucked out, and the right hand that 
aid be cm oil'. I tell you. and you know what I say 
rue, you arc breaking the seventh commandment all 
the 1 fcnem - Cast them from you; 

- n [ a Bur( -to deny yourself this wretched gratifi- 

cat j that your whole being, corrupted by its 

per] . Bhould be east into perdition. 

. . which men love dearly, 

h tempt them to offend against this law. On 

the 3 operas arc brought out, which 



THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 337 

have been well described as the apotheosis of prostitu- 
tion, and comedies and farces which make light of virtue, 
turn innocence into ridicule, and laugh modesty to scorn ; 
in singing saloons, songs are sung which can only have 
the effect of fanning -the flames of lawless lust ; and 
there are exhibitions in the ball-room, which stare de- 
cency out of countenance, and the sole object and sole 
result of which is to allure men to the brothel. Let no 
apologist for such amusements tell me that it is not so. 
The dances in such places are often of a most lascivious 
character, and men engage in them in order to have 
their languid and exhausted passions excited. If you 
are fond of these amusements, or any others which en- 
courage evil thoughts, and under a very thin veil of 
decency, badly conceal the grossest and most filthy li- 
centiousness, such amusements are in your case the right 
eye and right hand which cause you to offend. I tell you, 
and your conscience bears me witness, that while you 
are anticipating such pleasures, while you are enjoying 
them, while you are reflecting on them, you are break- 
ing the seventh commandment; you are committing 
adultery in your heart. Cast such amusements from 
you ; there are others of a healthful and highly moral 
tone ; but it were better to have no recreation at all than 
that the theatre, the singing saloon, and the hop, should 
be the portal by which we go down quick into hell. 
There are companions who may cause us to offend. It 
is amazing to see the fascination which a bad man, if he 
be a man of some genius and some wit, exercises over 
others. Perhaps he has a good voice, and can sing a 

gong well ; he can keep the table in a roar ; he has a 

22 



338 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

large fund of anecdotes and stories, varying in their 
character from the sickly sentimental to the beastly. 
He lives fast, knows the town, is up to all the dodges 
of licentious villainy, rolls all the vile and sensual go 
under his tongue; perhaps he is an infidel; or his the- 
is that of the merry monarch— God won't damn a 
man for enjoying a bit of pleasure. He takes a fiendish 
delight in undermining the principles, and ridiculing 
the Scruples of the uninitiated ; he is an unpaid servant 
of the devil, and yet more active and more zealous than 
many a salaried servant of the Christian church ; he leads 
his victims like a flock of sheep, and he glories in the 
triumph of his infernal skill. If any of you, my younger 
friends, have been inveigled thus, and form a portion of 
some fast-living circle, some group of reckless libertines, 
your companionships are, in your case, the right eye 
and the right hand which cause you to offend. Cut 
them off. cast them from you ; forsake that tavern, give 
up that club, frequent no longer that convivial meeting, 
which breaks up in the middle of the night, and themem- 
- of which, inflamed with strong drink and licentious 
sonars, go madly to seek the gratification of their fevered 
ome out from among them, and be 
it ifl better that you should go companionless 
:u than that, with those sons of Belial, you should 

hell. 

fcen freely on this subject, and if it is 

not freely and boldly spoken of, it had better not be re- 

. but it must be referred to; the violation 

of the seventh commandment, in its letter and its spirit, 

is one of the sorest plague-spots that afflict the world. 



THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 339 

I am deeply anxious that our young men and young 
women, yea all of us, whether young or not young, 
should keep ourselves pure, should, by God's grace, be 
kept from every violation of this great commandment ; 
and as often as we hear it, as often as we think of it, let 
this be our prayer, "Lord, have mercy upon us, and 
incline our hearts to keep this law." 



840 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 



LECTURE XVIII 



THE STREET. — PART I. 

The man who lives in a large town has always at 
command a source of instruction and entertainment, of 
counsel and of warning. If he have no books, let him 
salty forth into the streets, and he will find the whole 
town a large volume, richly stored with information, and 
open day and night for his perusal. If he cannot afford 
to pay for sight-seeing, he will find in the streets exhibi- 
tions more instructive, perhaps, than the wonders of 
Sydenham, or the treasures of art recently displayed at 
Manchester. 

Ticturcs! do you ask for pictures? there are plenty 
of pictures in the street — some of them very ugly, I 
admit, but like so many of Hogarth's, true to the life, 
and very deeply interesting, ugly though they be. If 
you are in Bearch of pleasure, perhaps you had best go 
to the country; if you arc in quest of instruction, study 
the town. I have said that a large town may be likened 
to a large book. Every street of it is a page. I intend 
to turn over a few of these pages this afternoon, in the 
hope that we may gather from them some information 
that may be profitable. 



THE STREET. — PART I. 341 

-Regarding the streets as pages, there are many of 
them which, like many pages in many books, are not 
worth looking at. There are the dull, decent, solemn, 
and highly respectable streets, which would be exces- 
sively indignant if a shop ventured to open its vulgar 
windows anywhere along their line. Occasionally a car- 
riage rolls along, and now and then a butcher's or baker's 
cart pulls up at one of the sombre doors ; but generally 
you might fire a thirty-two-pounder from end to end 
without the slightest danger of inflicting damage on man 
or beast! These streets I think we may pass° by, they 
are very grand and very gloomy, very comfortable and 
very stupid. 

But still I am unwilling to pass them by without 
making one or two observations:— in the first place, it is 
encouraging to know that the comfort and wealth of 
those streets are the reward of industry; for the most 
part of the people who inhabit them are men who have 
risen from the ranks. Perhaps they would not like to 
acknowledge it, but in many cases their fathers were 
working joiners, working bricklayers, and their mothers 
were originally cooks, housemaids, and washerwomen. 
There's a grand house, owned and inhabited by a worthy 
man, whose parents keep a greengrocer's shop, some- 
where near the docks; and there's another, the occupant 
of which used himself to stand at a stall in the market, 
selling Cheshire cheese and Irish bacon; and there's 
another, don't you see the carriage at the door, and 
three young ladies getting into it, to take their morning 
drive ? Their father, now an elderly gentleman, some- ' 
times afflicted with a touch of the gout, began life with 



342 LECTUKES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

Belling chip- and brimstone matches, for lucifcrs Were not 
known in those days. "Dear me, is it possible?" you 
ask; yes, possible for them, and possible for you like- 
"How did they contrive to get on? By what 
magic was the greengrocer's shop exchanged for this 
stately mansion, the stall in the market for this grand 
lence, the chip-basket for the elegant carriage?" 
By what magic? By the magic of industry, sobriety, 
and perseverance? " Oh, but they were very lucky!" 
Well, they made their own luck. "But those were 
times in which success was possible, men could make 
money then." Those times were no better than the 
present. There was dear bread, there was heavy taxa- 
tion, there were manias and panics and bubble companies 
and bank failures in those times, as in these. "Well, 
but those lucky fellows were very well educated, and 
very clever!" Not at all; many of them, as their man- 
ner of speech still testifies, have all their lives been per- 
fectly innocent of possessing more than that very little 
knowledge which is Baid to be "a dangerous thing;" 
and as to genius, or mental power, the grand and com- 
fortable Btreel makes no particular display in that line. 
"How did they get on?" They got on by never going 
off; never going off on the spree, never going off their 
proper employment to lose time in idleness. They were 
thoughtful, sober, prudent, and economical, hard work- 
ing, always at their post. So, as we pass along this 
street, which, dull and solemn as it looks, has an air of 
great comfort, which makes large amends for its gloomi- 
ness, Id us remember how this street arose, that, although 
it does n<>t relish any allusions to its ancestry, its parents 



THE STREET.— PART I. 343 

were poor, narrow, dirty lanes ; let us remember that the 
same prosperous career of industry is open to us all, that 
no magic, save the magic of good sense, good conduct, 
patience, and perseverance, is necessary to exchange the 
greengrocer's cellar for the roomy and comfortable man- 
sion, and the chip-basket for the carriage and pair. 

Further, I have to observe, with reference to these 
solemn streets, that although they have a cold and 
haughty look, and seem to frown contemptuously upon the 
dingy courts and alleys that keep at a respectful dis- 
tance, there is a great deal of kindness in the great so- 
lemn street ; that street does not selfishly retain all its 
wealth, but often shells out very liberally. Hospitals, 
infirmaries, dispensaries, town missions, charitable insti- 
tutions of all kinds are liberally maintained by that so- 
lemn street. Never believe those firebrands who say 
that the rich care nothing for the poo^ ; so far as I can 
judge, many of the rich care a great deal more for the 
poor than most of the poor care for themselves. So let 
us leave the solemn and highly respectable street, not 
growling at human selfishness and uttering tirades against 
the heartlessnecs and the cruelty and the cold indifference 
of men who have made their fortunes, but rather thank- 
ful for the kindness and munificence with which no small 
number of such persons act towards their less successful 
fellow-citizens. 

The contrast is very great when, from such streets, W3 
descend to some of those inhabited by the poorer portion 
of the people. A stranger might suppose that we were 
very classical in this town of Liverpool, for we have a 
considerable number of streets which bear the names of 



344 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

celebrated poets and authors. But, — shades of Homer, 
Virgil, and Juvenal, of Ben Johnson, Milton, and Dry- 
den, of Addison, Gay, and Roscoc, if you could but re- 
visit the glimpses of the moon, or of the gas-lights, and 
monuments which we have erected to your imper- 
ishable glory ! How grateful, how flattered you would 
feel, ye illustrious dead, if you could but take a stroll 
through those delightful retreats of the muses and the 
masses, illumined with the glare of a hundred gin shops, 
redolent with the fumes of tobacco and whiskey, reek- 
ing with indescribable filth, and swarming with men, 
women, and children, for the most part dirty, ragged, 
and wretched. Many of the streets inhabited by the 
poor are insufferably nasty; the houses, built in that 
style call imI jerry building, for which Liverpool is rather 
celebrated, are ready to tumble down. There is no sew- 
erage, or, if there be, it is not worthy of the name, for 
stagnant water poisons the whole street; the decen- 
sivilised life can scarcely be observed. Fever, 
Bmall-pox, and consumption have taken up their abode 
in those wretched 3, and there they will remain, 

glutting themselves on the miserable inhabitants. The 
m:ni our the brilliant idea of buildino- 

o 

narrow courts was certainly a genius. What an accursed 
is, wheD it manifests itself in such 
■'i :i< tlii^: when, to make the most of a few yards 
of land, it erects bouses in such close proximity as to 
expel both light and air, and builds I that 

arc qo1 fit fo ■ I ' ructive to 

notice in whal Qses we employ the same 

word, [n tin ind an item of in- 



THE STREET.— PART I. 345 

telligence headed " Court News," and there you read of 
the Queen and the Prince Consort, how they spent their 
forenoon, how they were dressed, who took the royal 
children out for an airing, and who had the honor of 
dining with her Majesty in the evening. All very inter- 
esting this, but there is other " Court News," which it is 
of more importance we should hear. We might have a 
Court Journal, detailing that in No. 1 Court, three child- 
ren died last week of small-pox, and fifteen more are 
dangerously ill ; that in No. 2 Court, not a spot of white- 
wash has been laid on the walls for fifteen years — that 
there is no drainage whatever, and that the filth is un- 
bearable and the stench enough to poison a dog; that in 
No. 3 Court, the sun was never yet known to shine, ex- 
cepting for half-an-hour in summer, and then only in at 
the top window of one of the houses, and that not a 
breath of air was ever felt in the place by the oldest in- 
habitant ; that in No. 4 Court, the residents remonstrated 
with the proprietor, and asked him to make the place de- 
cent, but he swore at them, and told them they might go 
to a certain place, only one degree worse than the beastly 
den they inhabit ; that in No. 5 Court, there had been a 
row among the women, who tore each other's hair, gave 
each other black eyes, smashed each other's windows, 
and got up a scene of ungovernable fury and disgusting 
intemperance; that in No. 6 Court, the houses are so 
crowded that no discrimination is observed in the sleeping 
arrangements, but a whole family, together with strangers, 
occupy the same room, while soap and water are almost 
as rare as venison and champagne ; that in No. 7 Court, 



346 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

the weekly wages of the inhabitants amount to £20, of 
which £12 are spent at the gin shop in the next street. 

That's the sort of intelligence we should have to 

publish, if we issued a Court Journal for Liverpool, or 

any other of our large towns. One of the most common 

diseases in many of those narrow streets and close alleys, 

is hydrophobia. Don't be alarmed. I do not say that 

the people have been bitten by mad dogs, but that there 

is, from some cause or other, a great abhorrence of cold 

water. Some of the men don't like it, many of the 

women hate it ; and as to the children playing in the 

gutters, and making dirt pies, and smearing each other's 

faces with filth, they would scream at the sight of it. 

There are faces to be seen that do not appear to have 

been washed these twenty years, and there are floors 

and furniture that have never been swept or dusted at 

all. Walking through those districts, one cannot help 

wishing that such streets had never been built, and that 

the act of building such houses were made a criminal 

offence, \'<>r they arc most destructive of public health 

and public morality. At the same time, bad as the 

houses may be they are rendered tenfold worse by the 

habits of those who occupy them. There are so many 

bright exceptions, bo many cases in which cleanliness is 

observed, decency regarded, and comfort secured, in 

spile of all the disadvantages of the situation, that the 

dirty, miserable house Is Left without excuse. There is 

no o for this wretchedness; but if men will spend 

B0 much of their money in drink, and if women will sit 

on the d ing and jangling for hours, if 

they will visit tie' gin .-nop to get their drams, then, of 



THE STREET. — PART I. 347 

course, poverty and squalor must be the result. The 
people have the remedy for this state of things in their 
own hands ; no one can help them, if they do not help 
themselves ; they can move out of those back slums, if 
they will. If they demand better houses, and if by dint 
of economy they can pay for better houses, there will 
ever be a supply, but not otherwise. Capitalists cannot 
be expected to lay out their money in the benevolent 
project of building better houses ; and if they did, their 
benevolence would be thrown away, unless the people 
for whom such houses were designed, were cleanly in 
their habits, for a good house requires a good tenant ; as 
long as there are pigs, there will be pig-styes. That 
men should quietly settle down in such odious habitations, 
that they do not make a resolute effort to better their 
condition — this I look upon as one of the worst signs of 
the times. There is a contentment which is praiseworthy ; 
but there is also a contentment which is to be condemned, 
which is to be despised, which is to be scouted. Contented 
to live in a hole from which light and air are excluded ; 
contented to exist in the midst of filth and uproar and 
confusion ; contented to take up one's abode in a place 
which must be the centre of disease, and in which every 
species of immorality flourishes and grows strong and 
rampant — -I could not be contented with this ; I should 
think it sinful to be contented in such a state, as long as 
my brains and my hands could put forth their energies 
to set me free from it. Contentment is a lesson often 
inculcated upon the poor, but I wish that in one sense 
they were discontented ; I wish that they felt an unspeak- 
able repugnance to the filthy habitations in which they 



348 CUBES EOR THE PEOPLE. 

are huddled I her. I would say — Don't be discon- 
tented with the Constitution, for there's not a hi 
under the sun; don't be discontented with work, for work 
is the wise and benevolent ordinance of God; don't think 
of agitating for the Charter, for Socialism, Communism, 
ami all that nonsense; but be discontented with dirt, and 
darkness, and foul air, and bad smells, and undraincd 
streets, and jerry-built houses, and set to work resolutely 
to free yourselves from this wretchedness, and to quit 
forever the streets in which fever and small-pox, and 
consumption and all other ills, reign and riot over the 
miserable victims of poverty and dissipation. 

With best wishes for the destruction of many of the 
narrow dirty streets, and for the sanitary improvement 
of the rest, let us now leave them, and turn for a mo- 
ment into the busy streets where trade and commerce 
A full activity. Very noisy are these streets; bat 
tli ere is something agreeable in the noise, for it tells of 
industry, em enterprise. All sorts of vehicles 

are I Q, from the stately chariot, with its liveried 

hman and footman, to the donkey-cart, driven by a 
ferocious Arab of th< , whose livery is rags, and 

wears upon his head some indescribable ruin of what 
was once a cap. The parapets are thronged by rich and 
poor, well-dressed and ill-dressed, happy looking people, 
and people 1 ry miserable; there they are, each 

in his way, and some in very strange ways, trying to 
live in this i world. It is a very animated 

ought to stir the blood of an idle 
man, and inspire him with activity. T>ut the busy streets 
.hh unmingled satisfaction. If 



THE STREET. — PART I. 349 

we could believe that all the men whom we see hurrying 
to and fro about the exchange and the commercial re- 
gions were strictly honorable in all their transactions 
and schemes, we could regard them with satisfaction, 
and wish them well, but we cannot believe this in the 
face of facts that are continually coming to light. Many 
a house of merchandise is neither more nor less than a 
den of thieves. Some of the men who make a great dis- 
play are not really worth three halfpence ; they are men 
of straw, fire balloons, soap bubbles. Under innumera- 
ble false pretences they obtain money, and get their 
credit bolstered up, until the inevitable crash comes ; 
this termination is called a crisis. I accept the term; 
one of the meanings of the word crisis is judgment — 
just the right word ; the crisis is a judgment upon dis- 
honesty. 

Nor is it satisfactory to see in the busy streets so 
many announcements which are utterly devoid of truth, 
and are intended to ensnare the green people, of whom, 
unhappily, there are so many. Of all the virtues, next 
to veracity, modesty is that of which many of the busy 
people are most innocent. Solomon says, " Let another 
man praise thee, and not thine own mouth, a stranger, 
and not thine own lips, " but our puffing tradesman is 
wiser than Solomon ; he knows that if he were to wait 
until another man praised him, he would have to wait in 
vain ; so he bespatters himself with praise, in the most 
fulsome style imaginable. "When thou doest thine 
alms," and we may add, when thou doest thy business, 
u sound not a trumpet before thee in the streets ;" but it 
must be confessed that the man who has not the face to 



350 LECTURES FOB THE PEOPLE. 

sound hie own trumpet is not keeping pace with the 
times. It is often said that ministers of religion are a 
self-interested class, intent upon popularity, and greedy 
of filthy lucre. "Religion is your trade," says Mr. 
Tripe, "and selling sausages is mine!" But what a 
precious fuss there would be ! what indignation ! what 
cries of "shame!" if we were to advertise our wares 
after the trade fashion.—" Mr. Timothy Orthodox begs 
to call the attention of the public to his unrivaled dis- 
courses, delivered every Sunday, at a quarter before 
eleven a.m., and half past six p.m." In one column of 
the Newspaper you see "Hats! Hats ! ! Hats! ! !" Why 
not in another advertise " Sermons ! Sermons ! ! Ser- 
mons ! ! !" Moses and Hyam have their poets, and why 
should not we have ours, to set forth to the world the 
magnificence of our discourses, especially as they are 
not magnificent! You would be rather amazed if you 
read on the walls a placard headed with a picture of a 
man in gown and bands, and intimating "that the 
Rev. Dr. Boanerges, having just finished his studies at 
the University of Oxford, and taken high honors, consid- 
ers himself the first orator of the age ; his voice is one 
of unrivaled melodiousness and astonishing compass; 
his manner is so graceful as to beggar description; and 
as to Btyle and matter, in point of doctrinal and practi- 
cal theology, in point of earnestness and eloquence, Dr. 
Boanerges defies competition. KB.— A superior lot 
of discourses is in preparation, and will be shortly deli- 
vered." Outrageous ! res, very ; but quite as modest 
18 this Dr. Boanerges as the shopkeeper who declares 
that his is the best and cheapest house in the trade ; 



THE STREET.— PART I 351 

that he has such facilities in making purchases as enable 
him to offer goods at prices considerably lower than any 
other house, and that his stock is superior to any other 
in existence. Even admitting the truth of such asser- 
tions, their bare-faced and brazen-faced impudence is 
certainly something remarkable. The trading world is 
full of the confused noise of these trumpets, blown by 
shopman after shopman at his own door— a thousand of 
them— each proclaiming himself a better tradesman than 
every other. 

"Let another man praise thee," says Solomon, " and 
if thou art worthy of praise, thou shalt be praised;" 
thy well-served and perfectly satisfied customers will sound 
the trumpet for thee; no sensible man will believe thee 
if thou soundest thy own trumpet; so, if thou hast any 
sense of honor, lay thy trumpet down, don't keep the 
article ; none but the hypocrites keep trumpets where- 
with to sound their own praise. And don't advertise 
great bargains, which you know so well are always great 
swindles. Don't say that you are prepared to sell at 
" any sacrifice," lest some one, taking you at your word, 
should lay a fourpenny piece on the counter, and walk 
off with a article worth five guineas, if there be such an 
article m the lot, which, however, is doubtful. Don't 
make your window a trap, well baited with tempting 
goods at tempting prices, and then by the counter 
dodge,* or any other dodge, "sell " your unsuspecting 

* " Another method to accomplish this result is technically called 
< the counter dodge/ and consists of the following strata-em • A 
superior specimen of an article in daily and common use, such as 
linen, is laid upon the counter, ticketed in plain figures at about half 



352 LECTURE? FOR THE PEOPLE. 

customer. Such shouting, by means of loud advertise- 
ments, reminds one of the old proverb — "More cry than 
wool." I may be singular ; but whenever I see Btich 
manifestoes, I say to myself, That's the very place of all 
places, which, if I have any common sense left, I will 
not enter — the fellow that keeps that concern makes so 
much noise that I can't believe him to be an honest man 
— he sounds his own trumpet ; therefore, without fail, he 
is a hypocrite — he must be ! Of course it will not be 
supposed that by these remarks all advertising is con- 
demned ; far from it. Every man is justified in giving 
full publicity to his business. I only plead for these 
two things, truth and modesty, in the manner in which 
the announcement is made ; and I would venture the 
opinion that truth and modesty will in the end prove 
more telling and more profitable than lies and impudence. 
The discerning public will not patronise the puffer ; but 
I should remember that some men don't wish for the 

mnot fail to catch the eye of a provideut and careful 
.vile, who immediately resolves to make a purchase of such a 
bargain. The vigilant assistant, perceiving that the fish is hooked, 
mmends the piece of goods, and fixes the buyer's reso- 
lution, by informing her that it is 'the last of the kind they have 

I, and the stuff measured over, the 

i da to wrap it up into a sheet of paper, in reaching over 

for which he contrives to let it fall down behind the counter, and in- 

: it up, he picks up another piece of the same length, 

which ha- I .- the purpose. Arrived at home, aud 

when opening out her purchase to exhibit its amazing cheapness, the 

bayer is strongl; to account for the difference of its appear- 

. from what it n the merchant's counter, little 

dreaming of the trick that has been played off upon her.'' — From 

■ of a Draper's A 



THE STREET — PART I. 353 

custom of the discerning public, but only for that of the 



un discerning:. 



And, indeed, there is a large portion of the public 
that is not remarkable for its discernment. The extent, 
to which people will submit to be gulled by sharpers of 
all sorts, is perfectly astounding. An example of this 
we have in the success of the quack doctor. This person 
is to be found in every large town. One of his favorite 
and most lucrative practices is to take the most shameful 
advantage of the unhappy victims of dissipation. He 
promises to cure them speedily and infallibly, and, as if 
regular practitioners were in the habit of blabbing all 
the secrets of their practice, announces, as a peculiarity 
of his system, that the most inviolable confidence will be 
preserved, and that there is a private back way to his 
surgery. But if the poor dupe will not pay whatever is 
demanded, he threatens him with exposure. It is said 
that some of these men have prostitutes in their pay, for 
what purpose I leave my hearers to gather for them- 
selves ;— but the quack doctor thus gets to know who 
has been conducting himself in an immoral way, and he 
has the audacity to write to him, and tell him that if he 
does not put himself under his care, he will inform his 
parents ; or if the profligate be a married man, which is 
as likely as not, he will convey the information to his 
wife. It surely is most disgraceful that the abominable 
advertisements published by such men, should appear in 
our newspapers, and even in what profess to be religious 
newspapers. There they are, week after week, month 
after month, the same beastly announcements. If the 
papers profess to lead public opinion, then it is their 



854 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

duty resolutely to close their columns against such gross 
immoralities. If the papers .say, " It's all a matter of 
business," then — let us come to a fair understanding — 
the concern which the papers express for the public wel- 
fare is all cant. Highly as we may approve and prize 
the liberty of the press, we may be permitted to wish 
for such a censorship as should exclude all filthy, delu- 
sive, and dangerous advertisements of this stamp ; and 
if this step cannot be taken, might not our magistrates 
have power given them to prosecute those who cover the 
dead walls and boardings with these insufferable inde- 
cencies ? They may fairly be classed among the obscene 
publications ; and that they should be publicly posted all 
over the town is a nuisance which we ought not to tole- 
rate. There is an humbler style of quack doctor, who 
takes his stand in the street ; he erects a booth, over 
which are printed in flaring capitals, the words, "Health 
for a shilling !" or, "Why will ye die?" I extract from 
a work on commercial roguery, the following specimen 
of this kind of street life : — 

"My friends, I stand here before you independent, 
free, and untrammeled by connection with any sect, 
party, profession, or denomination. * I am 

no human butcher or wholesale poisoner. I don't come 
to you with had Greek and corrosive minerals, the one 
to charm you, and the other to send you to your long 
homes. No, my frii ads, you see these vegetables spread 
out before you; these arc the produce of your own 
lovely hills, valleys, and green fields, and during the 
Bummer months many of them lend the charm of beauty 



THE STREET.— PART I. 355 

to jour meadows by their varied colors, and make the air 
balmy by their sweet fragrance. Not one of these, my 
friends, but^ possesses a life-giving essence or a health- 
restoring principle. The royal poet, who danced before 
tne ark, said that a man is wonderfully and fearfully made • 

* * * L 

* * 

, „ . —(John, give that lady a two- 

penny box of P ills.)-Yes, my friends, notwithstandin, 
your i Mblhty (another box> John)) tQ d . gease and d g 

Did you say a two-penny box, sir? Another box, John, 
here is a safe and speedy remedy (attend to that gentle- 
man Joan,) for every disease 'mortal flesh is heir to.' 
My friends, you do well to supply yourselves while I am 
here-(Two penny boxes, John.) During the course of 
he ensuing month, I am obliged, by previous arrange- 
ment to visit the following towns-(twop e nny box, 
John); to-morrow morning I leave here for Sheffield 
(at end to the lady with the child in her arms, John, 
and fr^ tl t0 ChegterfieW ^ ^ > che ^ 

you say? Why, my dear fellow, one box would cure a 
horse s head, which is four times the size of yours), then 
on to Derby- (Give the child two pills at bi time, an" 
con tin ue the dose for a month.) From there I go to 
Nottingham Newark-upon-Trent, (hand these pills fo the 

tor the ^ G r Sb r Ugh ' Lin °° ln ' B "^ and Bart - 
npon-the-Humber; ('tis well I told you I would be away 

fa month; ake my advice and lay in a good stock* 

f wuf ' BeVerley ' Driffield > Bridlington, Sea - 
borough, Whitby, and Stockton-upon-Tees, °(two large 
boxes for that lame gentleman, John,) Darlington, Dur- 
ham, Sunderland, Shields, and Newcastle-upon-Tyne- 



356 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

! poor man, your swimming in the hear! arises from 
hours of labor at a sedentary ei lent; two 

. John,) then I goto Hexham, Haltwhi 
apton, and Carlisle (my friends, your anatomical 
man-killer? would transport me if they had the power. 
* * * I hold my authority from a higher power than 
that which deputes them to poison and kill by the knife); 
then I go to Penrith, Shap, Kendal, Lancaster, Preston, 
and Manchester." — Language of the Walls. 

I once heard one of these worthies addressing a crowd 
of gaping dupes; he was dressed in a college cap ami 

sional appearance. After 
a few touching remarks upon the neglect with which he 
had been treated 1 y a prejudiced public, he spoke some- 
what as follows: — "How extraordinary, how mournful, 
that the human mind will not have truth a1 






I" 



(tliis was too bad, for the human mind — or, at all events, 
human bodies, with or without minds — were at that 
moment purchasu \ they could, what the pro- 

I to be truth, in the form of boxes of pills.) 
" T! im, the di 

I. Then there \ 
I think tl Qtor) " of 

the circulate to encoui 

isoned be- 

. . ■; i *md 

the way, every man who has a crotchet 

cond 

of the Gentiles, Saint 

Paul, they said of him ich learning had made him 






TEE STREET. — PART I. 357 

mad. In this manner, I, too, am treated; it is the com- 
mon lot of genius; but, gentlemen, it is an honor to 
suffer m such company, and in such a cause." The 
" gentlemen" were greatly moved by this appeal, and 
every one of them who fancied there was anything the 
matter with him forthwith bought a box of pill! I 
passed by again in about half an hour, and heard Spurz- 
heim, Harvey, Galileo, and Saint Paul again referred to 
in explanation of the obstinate incredulity of the human 
mmd, which will not have truth at any price. From the 
professor's dictum I beg leave to dissent; it strikes me 
that the human mind is far too gullible, too credulous, 
too ready to receive for truth anything that comes in the 
name of truth— anything, whether a quack medicine for 
the body, or a quack medicine for the soul, whether a 
professor of mesmerism or an apostle of mormonism. I 
wish there was more scepticism, more of a spirit of in- 
quiry, more of a disposition to submit everything to the 
decision of reason, and then the degrading superstitions 
and fanaticism which make such fearful havoc amongst 
our people would be scouted with contempt. We have 
too many soft heads and hard hearts amongst us; what 
we want are, hard heads and soft hearts-hard heads to 
make us wise, and soft hearts to make us good. 

I have not quite exhausted my subject ; there are 
other varieties of street life which are worthy of notice 
and of which I intend to speak when we meet again. 



LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 



LECTURE XIX 



THE STREET. — PART II. 

I intend this afternoon to continue and conclude my 
remarks upon the phenomena of street life. 

A greater misfortune can hardly befall an honest and 
industrious man than to be out of employment ; in a large 
number of instances, men who are out of work have 
themselves to thank for their idle and destitute condition ; 
they say they have been sacked, but when you inquire 
into the facts of the case, you find that they have sacked 
themselves. But amidst the fluctuations to which all 
trades are subject, it is v ible for the steadiest 

q to find thi re no longer required, 

and when this is tl a's first care is to 

something He cannol bear to be idle ; even 

if he ha able to save something, and is not 

altogether ha to draw upon the 

uncomfortable, he is 

Now in these 

id to profitable account, 

:is there are i m who live by the idler's love of 

so there are tnen who live by the steady man's 



\ 

THE STREET. — PART II. 359 

love of work. Hence you often see such an announce- 
ment as this : 

"Profitable Employment.— Persons in search of 
employment, either as a source of income, or to fill up 
their leisure hours, may hear of such by return of post, 
by which from £2 to <£3 weekly and upwards may be 
realised in town or country, and by either sex — station 
in life immaterial — by enclosing twelve stamps, with 
directed stamped envelope, to Mr. W. A., F — — street, 
London." This is very tempting ; and one is inclined 
to ask wonderingly — What is the "profitable employ- 
ment?" How are the £2, £3, and upwards to be made? 
I never had the curiosity to inquire, but I have heard of 
a worthy fellow who sent his stamps to one of these 
fortune brokers, and was, by return of post, advised to 
try selling hot potatoes in the street, at night. It is no 
uncommon thing to see an advertisement which promises 
"A fortune for five shillings." Every day, a large 
number of men carefully and anxiously scan the columns 
of the newspapers, for advertisements of situations. 
Perhaps they little know the heartless trickery of some 
who advertise. A young man sees such very desirable 
information as the following: "Wanted, a respectable 
person, to fill a responsible situation, with a liberal 
salary. All communications to be prepaid, with a stamp 
enclosed." The fact is, that there is no situation at all, 
but if one or two hundred persons apply, the advertiser 
nets one or two hundred postage stamps — and the 
applicants hear no more of him ; or it may be, that he 
writes by return of post, stating that the situation can 
be had for two shillings and sixpence, or five shillings, 



3-80 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

so each applicant sends the required amount ; the scamp 
clears, perhaps, £50 ! Write to him again, and your 
letter will come back through the Dead Letter Office. 
The same swindling practice is carried on by what are 
called " Servants' Registry Offices." The young man 
or young woman out of employment, and walking about 
the town in search of it, is attracted by a large board, 
bearing a great number of notices. All sorts of persons 
are wanted ; one would suppose that the supply of labor 
was far beneath the demand for it. Merchants are in 
want of clerks ; coal proprietors are in want of agents ; 
wholesale houses are in want of travelers ; drapers, 
grocers, and ironmongers want assistants ; in all kinds 
of trades, apprentices are wanted ; country gentlemen 
appear to be in great want of grooms, butlers, and 
gardeners ; hotel-keepers seek for waiters, and the gene- 
ral public require housemaids, nursery maids, and good 
plain cooks by the score. How comes it to pass that so 
many people are out of employment ? If we are to be- 
lieve the registry offices, the demand is enormous and 
perpetual. But are we to believe these offices ? Let 
the following case, which appeared a little while ago in 
our police reports, decide this question : — 

" Detection of a swindler. — A man named E. P., 
keeper of a Servants' Registry Office, No. — , L — Street, 
was placed in the dock, charged with swindling between 
forty and fifty young men, who appeared in court, by 
promising to procure them situations on payment of an 
office fee of two shillings and sixpence. R. L., the first 
witness, stated that he saw in the defendant's window an 
advertisement for a collector of the rents of fifty houses 



THE STREET. — PART II. 361 

for a retired gentleman, and made application by letter, 
at the same time paying the entrance fee of two shillings 
and sixpence. He never received any answer to his 
communication ; and when he called at the office yester- 
day, he found that the letter had never been opened. J. 
H., a middle-aged man, had paid three half-crowns 
for situations as bailiff, coachman, and gardener, none 
of which he had obtained. The evidence of the other 
witnesses was of a similar nature. * * * The pri- 
soner was remanded for seven days, in order to afford 
time for inquiries to be made as to the extent of the pri- 
soner's frauds; some hundreds of letters being produced, 
which contained valuable testimonials, and would greatly 
inconvenience the parties who had made such applica- 
tions." 

What "the extent of the previous frauds" turned out 
to be, I am unable to say ; but here was a tolerable 
specimen ; fifty men in one body appearing against him. 
It is very certain that this fellow's victims, men and wo- 
men, must have numbered many hundreds. Here, then, 
is a specimen of the Servants' Registry Office. I should 
be very sorry to say that -they are all alike ; such an in- 
stitution is capable of being very useful, for capital and 
labor are often in search of each other, but neither can 
very easily find the other; the Servants' Registry Office 
is a medium whereby capital and labor can come into 
communication ; but still, the facts which I have quoted, 
and which are only a few out of many which I might 
mention, are sufficient to prove that persons out of em- 
ployment are very unwise if they trust to the promises 
made at those offices. As I before said, a steady man 



362 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

out of work will give almost any thing to obtain remu- 
nerative employment, and there is a number of scoun- 
drels who take advantage of this eagerness for work ; 
generally speaking, you may take it for granted the 
Registry Office is a swindle. If you ever are tempted, 
through want of employment, to enter one of these traps, 
baited with a score or two of promising announcements, 
remember the fifty young men who appeared against Mr. 
R,. P. The plain English of — Wanted a collector of 
rents — a porter — an apprentice — a servant of all work, 
is this — Wanted half-a-crown ; you are not wanted at 
all. Don't be so silly as to suppose anything of the 
kind ; the only thing that is wanted is your money. I 
believe, however, that in some cases, I would hope they 
are very few, the iniquity of the registry office goes far 
beyond this swindle. Such institutions have been known 
to provide young and innocent victims for the seducer, 
and tenants for the brothel. The libertine and the bawd 
have been known to advertise through this medium, and 
therefore it behoves young women to be particularly 
fa] how they submit themselves to the tender mercies 
of the registry office; it is posssible that the places for 
which they apply are not shams, but most terrible reali- 

No lecture on the streets would be complete without 
■ Dotice of tlic public-houses. An inn is one of the 
necessaries of life in a civilised country, and among a 
people whose business renders it necessary that a large 
proportion of them should be very frequently engaged 
in traveling; and unless the liberty of the subject is to 
be most impertinently interfered with, the traveler, at 



THE STREET. — PART II. 363 

his inn, should be allowed to command wines, spirits, 
and beer, if he wishes for them. But our thousands of 
public-houses and beer-houses have not been called into 
existence by the requirements of the traveling public. 
A very large number of them are not frequented, are 
scarcely ever entered,, by "bona fide" travelers ; they 
owe their support entirely to the depraved habits of a 
large proportion of the general public, and the majority 
of their customers are not five miles from home in twelve 
months. The public-house, as nearly all public-house 
advertisements proclaim, is supported by the neighbor- 
hood, which is often styled " a first rate drinking lo- 
cality." The greatest pains are taken to render these 
places, attractive ; they are fitted up regardless of ex- 
pense, but it pays to make them splendid ; so there they 
are, for the most part well situated at the corners of the 
streets ; the windows are of superb plate-glass ; the gas 
fittings very ornamental; and outside, over the door, 
there is invariably a great lamp. Sometimes this lamp 
is very appropriately made in the shape of a barrel, with 
staves of red and white glass alternated. Occasionally 
the lamp has a revolving light, being thereby all the 
more likely to attract attention. There is one point, 
however, in which the gin-palace differs from most other 
shops. The draper keeps his doors open ; he has no de- 
sire whatever to screen his customers from observation ; 
he would rather show the public how many customers he 
has at his counter ; but the gin-shop is invariably pro- 
vided with doors, which yield to the slightest pressure, 
and then close of their own accord, very much after the 
manner of a trap. The doors are partly of glass ; but 



364 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

the glass is either ribbed or frosted in a very judicious 
manner, bo that the too inquisitive passer-by can see no- 
thing of what is going on inside, the windows being 
generally too high from the pavement to admit of l 
looked through. There is something significant in 
fact — something hopeful in it. It shows that either the 
gin-seller, or his customer, or both, have some sense of 
shame left — a lingering consciousness that that sort of 
business is not " quite the thing" — that it is rather dis- 
reputable to be seen in such places ; and for their own 
interest they had better continue to have their doors and 
windows so constructed that the public, while passing, 
shall not see what is going on inside — that the public 
may not see the barman serving out drink to poor rag- 
ged boys, who have to stand on tip-toe in order to see 
over the counter — that the public may not see the 
drunken mother quieting her child by pouring whiskey 
down its throat — that the public may not see the soft 
sailor lad treating three or four prostitutes, and so 
spending his hard earned wages — that the public may 
not see the haggard, filthy, ragged wretch, who has com- 
mitted a theft in order to obtain his dram. Wisely 
made windows and doors! But let me ask the publican, 
Are von .{ to show all the world what is going 

on at your counter? then it is a wonder you are not 
ashamed of the infernal traffic altogether. I tell you 
you are a coward, and your doors and windows prove it. 
know that your premises are hell on a small scale — 
son know thni people would be disgusted, almost alarmed, 
it' they saw the abominations of which that shop of yours 
•fl the scene! 



THE STREET. — PART II. 365 

If the people did but know and consider how they are 
cheated in the matter of drink, they would perhaps feel 
more reluctance about entering those poison-shops. Of 
all adulterations, there is none so systematic, so extensive, 
as the adulteration of intoxicating beverages. In London, 
and I suppose in all -large towns, there are what are 
termed Drink Doctors, and there is probably no intoxi- 
cating liquor which does not experience the benefit of 
their skill. The wines sold in most of the public-houses 
are filthy, poisonous compounds. The following informa- 
tion is given on the authority of Mr. J. Mitchell : Alum 
is added to new and poor red wines, for the purpose of 
brightening their color ; and to pale, faint-colored port, 
Brazil and logwood is employed, together with elder- 
berries, or bilberries. In cases where an addititional 
stringency is required, oakwood saw-dust is used, and it 
is by means of the above substances that wretchedly 
bad foreign and home-made wines are converted into 
"Genuine Old Port," which is sold at the public-houses 
at a high price, thus yielding to both the wholesale and 
retail dealer a handsome profit. * * * Some of the 
salts of copper are occasionally employed to impart an 
additional stringency to wines. Amongst other dodges, 
it is common to stain the corks used for port wine, 
so that it may seem that the wine has been a considera- 
ble time in contact with them, and therefore long in 
the bottle." Speaking of the drink doctor, a writer 
in " Chambers' Edinburgh Journal" says, "Under his 
miraculous management, three hogsheads of proof gin 
from the distiller's shall, in the course of a single 
night, be transformed into seven substantial hogsheads 



366 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

of ' Cream of the Valley.'" One of the ingredients 
commonly employed by him is vitriol. In managing 
beer, the D. D. is also very successful; he can make bad 
L r ""d, and weak strong, and the merest trash he can 
convert into XXX ; and, above all, he is well versed in 
the modes by which beer and porter are made provocative 
of thirst. Thus a large number of substances, some of 
them harmless, others exceedingly injurious, are used in 
the preparation of the various compounds sold at the 
gin-palace and the jerry-shop. I find in one recipe for 
making porter, no fewer than fifteen ingredients, amongst 
which are cocculus indicus and lime. By the addition 
of sulphuric acid, new beer is in a few moments converted 
into old, and by the use of chalk or soda, old beer 
becomes new. You often see that a public-house to let, 
has this recommendation, " Free from brewer and spirit 
merchant." Undoubtedly, this is a valuable point to 
the tenant. A brewer and spirit merchant, if respectable 
men, as many of them are, would perhaps, for their own 
credit's sake, supply something not altogether poisonous, 
and would see that it was not tampered with; but when 
house is free from brewer and spirit merchant, the 
art is of coarse at perfect liberty to buy, to make, 
:] the me unable trash that he can possibly 

impose upon his nndiscerning customers. 

Now there are man; - why a man should not 

frequent the I shall at present mention only 

. and I think that, apart from the others, it 

bt to be enough. You are, in most cases, if not in 

muled; you do not get what you ask for, 

but some filthy and unhealthy mixture, often containing 



THE STREET. — PART II. 367 

deadly poisons. If mine host were to tell his customers 
the real composition of the "Mountain Dew," the 
"Heal Old Stingo," the "Cream of the Valley," the 
"Old Tom," very few of them would venture to touch 
these now highly popular beverages. You order a bottle 
of good old port, and the honest fellow brings up a 
bottle, and says — "There, gentlemen, is a mixture of 
cider and brandy, with a decoction of logwood;" you 
call for a glass of brandy, — it is supplied, with the in- 
formation that it contains, besides the brandy, some 
tincture of the grains of paradise, cherry laurel water, 
spirit of almond cakes, oak sawdust, and burnt sugar to 
give it "complexion;" you ask for a pot of beer, and 
it is distinctly stated that some of its elements are vitriol, 
alum, aloes, and copperas. Were such information 
faithfully supplied, I apprehend the number of customers 
would rapidly diminish, though there are some who 
rather admire the strength which is thus given to their 
favorite beverage, like the man who, on being asked six- 
pence for a glass of whiskey, which, though genuine, he 
did not relish, exclaimed, " Why, down at So and So's, 
I could get a glass of whiskey for sixpence that would 
burn my liver out." Well, you are swindled, at all 
events, if you go to such places, and on this account, if 
there were no other, it is a very unwise thing to give way 
to the habit ; you are encouraging a wholesale system of 
cheating and poisoning. About the doors of these places 
we behold some of the worst features of street life. On 
any morning, but chiefly on Monday morning, you 
see numbers of men, lounging and loafing by the 
gin-shop. This is one of the most disgraceful sights 



368 LECTUEES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

which our large towns present, — the dirty, unwashed, 
unshaven, ragged blackguards, who ought to be at work, 
and might be at work — there they are, ready to sell their 

souls for a pot of beer or a gill of whiskey. If a man 
Lave the slightest regard for his character, he will never 
be seen in this disgraceful position. If he has no work 
to do, he had better stay at home all day than form one 
in that group of good-for-nothings, who hang on at the 
doors of the public-house, and whose countenance and 
dress too plainly proclaim the sort of business that is 
done there. In this respect they may be of some use as 
scare-crows, to terrify the, as yet, uncorrupted, and 
warn them off the ground. Ugh! it's enough to make 
one shudder, as one looks at them. What faces! Are 
they faces? Man made in the image of God! There's 
a great deal more of the image of the devil — on the 
countenance of one is written dishonesty; on that of 
another, ferocity; on that of a third, idiocy; while all 
look wretched. Many of them are very young, mere 
boys ; they have been neglected from their infancy ; the 
gin shop has absorbed all the money that ought to have 
been spent in feeding and educating them; they inherit 
the vile habits of their parents; they gain a precarious 
living by begging and stealing; they rush to the gin 
shop with the results of the day's mendicity and dis- 
. and it is not often that the extreme youth of 
the customer is objected to by the man at the bar; he 
sells the lire-water as readily to the child of ten as to 
the man of thirty. You cannot walk far in our streets 
at any time, but especially on a Saturday night, without 
encountering drunken men, and quite as many drunken 



THE STREET. — PART II. 369 

women, reeling from one public-house to another, and 
uttering the most profane and disgusting language. 
Truly, it is time that all good men were wide awake, 
seeing after these home heathens, remonstrating with 
them, appealing to their consciences, warning them of 
the terrible results of such dissipation, and though last, 
not least, providing for them in abundance better places, 
in which to spend their leisure time soberly, rationally, 
and at the same time pleasantly, and at the smallest 
possible cost. Much has been done in this direction, and 
I believe that much more will be done. The good men 
of this country have faith enough, hope enough, strength 
enough to wrestle with this greatest of all our social 
evils. I believe that improvement is visible already. 
It is something that the gin-shop is compelled to make 
itself grand and captivating; it is something that it is 
obliged to have high windows and swing doors ; it is 
something that sober entertainments attract greater 
crowds than drunken ones; and I do believe that it is by 
providing the better things that we are to draw men 
away from the worse. The gin-shop has a depraved ap- 
petite on its side, but it has nothing else ; that depraved 
appetite is strong, certainly so strong in some that we 
are almost tempted to despair; but the Working Men's 
Associations, and the People's Concerts, and the Public 
Libraries, have good sense and conscience and economy 
on their side— have withal Grod's blessing on their side; 
and it would really be wrong to doubt these better things, 
together with others, which good men may devise, will 
ultimately get the victory over the worse things. 

Street beggars deserve a few moments' notice in this 



370 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

lecture. I have had, during the last ten years, a tolera- 
bly large experience amongst this class of persons, and 
the result of my experience is simply this, that about 
ninety-nine out of every hundred are utterly undeserving 
of help, and, further, that it would be positively wrong 
to help them. "When I remember the cases that I 
come before me, I can conscientiously say that I am 
exceedingly sorry that I was weak enough to give away 
so many shillings and sixpences, though they have not 
been very many, for I confess I have never been bountiful 
to beggars. In almost every case in which I have given 
money, food, or clothing, I have discovered that I was 
imposed upon. I remember once giving a man half-a- 
crown to help him to go to Dublin that very night ; he 
told me a very plausible story, professed to be a very 
religious man, and of the same church as myself. I saw 
him next day coming out of a gin-shop, and on asking 
him why he had not gone to Dublin, he cursed me to my 
face, and swore he had never seen me before in all his 
"born days." I once gave a begging minister five 
shillings. I discovered soon afterwards that in his book 
he had altered the 5 to a 10, and the reverend scoundrel 
had the impudence to tell me that, for a name like mine, 
five shillings was discreditable, and therefore, to raise 
my character for generosity, he had taken the liberty of 
committing the forgery. I have, perhaps twenty times, 
lent a man a shilling or half-a-crown; in one case I think 
it was returned. are almost always as dishonest, 

though not as daring, as the swell-mob. Their pitiable 
stories are never to be believed. I have seen a lame 
beggar shoulder his crutches at nine o'clock at night, 



THE STREET. — PART II. 371 

and walk off as nimbly as possible to some public-houso 
in a back street. These fellows can be blind, deaf and 
dumb, club-footed, anything in fact, for the occasion. 
If I am not greatly mistaken, I have seen a man in 
Market street, Manchester, stone-blind, and in a few 
weeks afterwards found him somewhere in Liverpool, on 
crutches, but with his eyes wide open. Young beggars 
tell you that their father and mother are both dead ; 
there is truth in the assertion, they are both dead drunk. 
The children who are carried or led through the streets, 
are hired at so much a day, a high price being given for 
a cripple. I am so thorough a sceptic with regard to 
beggars, that I scarcely believe that the man whom I 
see apparently destitute of legs, has not managed to 
stow away his legs out of sight, through some cunning 
trick or other. Now it may appear rather harsh to say, 
Never give these beggars anything, unless you give them 
a taste of a rope's end ; yet I do believe that an immense 
amount of mischief results from the misapplied sympathy 
which these lying vagabonds manage to enlist on their 
behalf; to help them is to encourage idleness, to reward 
dishonesty. The money you give them will infallibly be 
converted into ardent spirits, and if you give them food 
or clothing, it's all the same; you maintain them in their 
profligate course. Don't let them work upon your 
feelings, then. It's their trade to invent most pitiful 
and heart-rending tales, of colliery accidents, shipwrecks, 
explosions of boilers, being confined in hospitals and 
infirmaries, protracted sickness, and nobody knows what ; 
set it all clown as false, from the beginning to the end, 
and deliberately shut the door in their face. Ah ! you 



612 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

yon, a Christian minister, telling us to treat the 
poor thus! your Master would not hi d in this 

manner. Now it so happens that my Master did act in 
this manner. On one occasion, He fed a large number 
of people, when, in consequence of their listening tor 
Him, it grew too late for them to go and buy I 
supper ; but the next day, when they went after Him, 
not to hear him preach, but to get another supply of 
food, He gave them to understand that it was not His 
intention to encourage idleness; and on that occasion, 
although He gave them good advice, and although with 
a word He could have fed them, He sent perhaps some 
thousands of beggars away without a morsel. Helping 
the poor is one thing, helping impostors is quite another; 
the country swarms with impostors, from the miserable 
wretch who pretends to be paralysed, and holds out his 
shaking hand, which drink has caused to tremble, to the 
genteel and sanctimonious rascal who advertises in these 
terms : " To the wealthy Faithful, whose acts are based 
upon love alone. — An appeal is made on behalf of a 
brother who requires help to the extent of ,£150 or £250. 
Matt. xxv. 40." This finished hypocrite might well 
appeal to those whose acts arc based "on love alone;" 
use appealing to those with whom good sense 
forms a portion of the basis on which they act. What, 
then, are these miserable street beggars to starve? 

re's no fear of them : leave them in the hands of the 
police; no man in this country can starve; there is legal 
relief for him; but he who is too proud to go to the 
workhouse, ought to be too proud to beg. We all of us 



THE STREET.— PART II. 373 

know poor people who are worthy of our help ; let us 
help them, and we shall have nothing to spare for 
vagrants and impostors. 

It was my intention to say something about what may 
be called street literature ; but I do not think it worthy of 
more than a passing notice. The second-hand bookstalls 
are a valuable institution to poor men; many a good 
book can be picked up for a trifling sum, and I think it 
is due to state that thoroughly bad books are very seldom 
to be found exposed for sale. But there is another 
department of street literature that is exceedingly con- 
temptible, and that is the ballads which you find arrayed 
on strings along a brick wall. This retreat of the muses, 
generally guarded by an old woman, seems to be pretty 
well frequented, especially by sailors. The songs are 
for the most part insufferable doggrel. There is one of 
a rather unusual character, so far as its subject is con- 
cerned, for it is a controversial poem, in which heterodox 
views are thus learnedly and poetically held up to 
reprobation : 

" The holy Scripture it clearly shows us 
How wicked force of heresy, 
By king Pharaoh that was supported, 
To the laws of Moses would not agree, 
Till with a plague they were all afflicted 
With snakes and serpents throughout the land ; 
When the Israelites they were persisting, 
The sea entombed them by God's command." 

The poet, in his last stanza, speaks with becoming 
humility. & 



374 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

' ; To bring these verses to a conclusion, 
I won't intrude on the muses nine ; 
All good Christiana that will peruse them 
I hope veu will excuse a stupid mind/' 
* * * * 

Most of the ballads sold in the streets appear to be 
the productions of "stupid minds." There seems to be 
comparatively few of the fine old songs, of which we 
very justly feel so proud. Generally speaking, there is 
neither poetry, nor common sense, nor even sentiment ; 
no wit, no drollery, nothing but the workings of " a stupid 
mind." If the people delight in them, I am very sorry, 
for the fact argues a great want of intelligence and of 
good taste. Some of the songs are dirty, but very few of 
them at all instructive in their tendency. There is, how- 
ever, enough of obscenity to bring them under the notice 
of the police. I can only regret that any portion of the 
community should be so utterly degraded, both intellec- 
tually and morally, as to derive the smallest pleasure 
from such wretched trash, and I cannot believe that it is 
patronised by many of the people. I think that the 
le prefer good literature to bad, and that the days 
of disgusting books are drawing to a close. I hope that 
none of my hearers will so far degrade themselves as to 
< 1> immoral and licentious publications as still 
unhappily exist amongst us. Of all poisons, this is the 
deadly. I earnestly entreat you now, as I have 
earnestly entreated you before, to read books of a high 
standard, high in intelligence, high in morals. 

There is one aspect of street life, perhaps the mourn- 
fullest of all, on which much might be said, but my time 



THE STREET.— PART II. 375 

will not permit me to speak of it at any length. I refer 
to the unhappy class of street-walkers, and the poor in- 
fatuated and besotted blockheads who allow themselves 
to be ensnared by them. "I beheld (says Solomon) 
among the simple ones, I discerned among the youths, a 
young man void of understanding, passing through the 
street near her corner ; and he went the way to her 
house, in the twilight, in the evening, in the black and 
dark night: and, behold, there met him a woman with 
the attire of an harlot, and subtle of heart. * * Now 
she is without, now in the streets, and lieth in wait at 
every corner. * * * With her much fair speech she 
caused him to yield, and with the flattery of her lips she 
forced him. He goeth after her straightway, as an ox 
goeth to the slaughter, and a fool to the correction of 
the stocks ; till a dart strike through his liver ; as a 
bird hasteth to the snare, and knoweth not that it is for 
his life. Hearken unto me, therefore, ye children, 
and attend to the words of my mouth. Let not thine 
heart decline to her ways, go not astray in her paths. 
For she hath cast down many wounded : yea, many 
strong men have been slain by her. Her house is the 
way to hell, going down to the chambers of death." In- 
imitable picture, drawn nearly three thousand years ago, 
but as true to-day as it was then. The character of the 
victim, a simple man, a young man void of understand- 
ing ; the character of the victimiser, subtle of heart, ly- 
ing in wait at every corner, deceiving by her much fair 
speech ; the results of this folly and sin ; her house is 
the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death. 
" Marriage is honorable in all, * * * but whore- 



376 LECTURES FOB THE TEOPLE. 

mongers and adulterers God will judge." And no small 
judgment befalls them in this world. God thus merci- 
fully warns them, lest heavier judgment should be their 
doom in the world to come. 

Oh these streets, these streets, these vast towns of ours, 
there great centres and capitals of commerce, of enterprise, 
of activity, of civilization ! when will they be cleared, and 
how can they be cleared, of filth, of disease, of poverty, 
of dishonesty, of ignorance, of intemperance, of impos- 
ture, of impurity, of crime ? When will every inhabited 
tenement be the abode of cleanliness and health, of in- 
telligence and plenty, of virtue and happiness ? Let us 
have faith in goodness, and in the Author of goodness. 
It is not his will that any should perish, but that all 
should come to repentance. The devil's works shall yet 
be brought to nought, by Him who came into the world 
for the express purpose of destroying them. In this 
faith let all good men live; in this faith let all good men 
pray; in this "faith let all good men labor; in this faith 
let all good men die; assured that every true work is a 
seed which, though it may long lie buried in the dust, 
is, by God's ordinance, imperishable, and will and must 
at length spring up, and bear forth wholesome and abun- 
dant fruit ! 



stop thief! 377 



LECTURE XX. 

STOP thief! 

" Thou shalt not steal" is one of the great command- 
ments of the law, and a commandment the righteousness 
of which few, if any, are prepared to dispute. Theft, 
whether on a large scale or a small, whether perpetrated 
secretly or openly and with force and violence, is almost 
universally regarded as in a high degree criminal; and 
to call a man a thief, is one of the most intolerable 
insults you can offer him. Yet, though the crimi- 
nality of theft is so widely recognised, and though 
the name of thief is so generally abhorred, few crimes 
are so common ; probably there is no commandment of 
the law more frequently broken and set at nought than 
this, " Thou shalt not steal." When we reflect upon the 
subject, we find that there are very many thieves in the 
world, and very many different ways of violating this 
great and most equitable law. 

Of those who are thieves by profession, the burglars, 
the card-sharpers, the begging impostors, the swindlers, 
the pickpockets, and the swell-mob generally, I shall say 
but little One has but a small chance of addressing to 



378 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

such people a word of advice. I can only express the 
hope that, sooner or Liter, but the sooner the better, 
their conscience, or, if they have no conscience, their 
experience, may convince them that "the way of trans- 
fers is hard," that dishonest practices are more 
laborious than a life of honest industry; and above all I 
v ish that they may learn, from the example of that peni- 
tent thief who died upon the cross, that even they, sus- 
pected, watched, hunted, and hated as they are, have a 
friend in Him who so freely forgave that malefactor, and 
addressed to him those consolatory words, " Verily I say 
unto thee, to-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise." 
Far be it from me to apologise for professional rogues; 
but in many cases they are not so heavily responsible as 
most men suppose. In many cases they have been 
trained in roguery; in many more they have been driven 
to it, as the only way of keeping their bodies and souls 
together. Such thieves, thieves almost by necessity, 
must be punished; but they ought to be pitied, too, and, 
by judicious treatment in reformatories, many of the 
more juvenile of them may be, and undoubtedly will 
be, reclaimed, and become honest men and useful citi- 
zens. 

But those poor wretches commonly called thieves are 
not the only violators of the law, "Thou shalt not steal." 
This law has often been broken by the most exalted per- 
sonagea in the world. There have been many royal, 
many imperial thieves and robbers. Give conquest its 
right name, and yon must often call it i . and the 

i a greal degree the history of co- 
an 1 wholesale plunder. Further, in the 



stop thief! 379 

waste and extravagance with which the various depart- 
ments of the public service are carried on, at the expense 
of the people, we see this law constantly violated. The 
Financial Reform Association is too polite to say in the 
plainest terms exactly what it means; but its meaning is 
this, and its motto might very properly be this— " Stop 
thief!" Only consider how the public money is squan- 
dered, how much of it is laid out in a useless manner, 
and not for the benefit of the country, and then say 
whether governments, whatever be their politics, have 
not need to learn this great commandment, " Thou shalt 
not steal." 

In looking through society with a view to detecting 
thieves, I must admit that I find some in the clerical 
profession. In cunning, in audacity, and in extent, 
clerical knavery will stand comparison with knavery of 
any other sort that the world has ever seen. The artful 
dodges and subtle devices by means of which priests 
have appealed to the hopes and fears of superstitious 
people, and have supplied their Reverences, Right Rev- 
erences, Excellencies, and Holinesses with almost unlim- 
ited sums of money, are as numerous and ingenious as 
the tricks of the most accomplished members of the 
swell-mob; so that our Saviour's words have, in very 
many cases, been as applicable to the so-called Christian 
Church as to the Jewish Temple. "It is written, my 
house shall be called the house of prayer, but ye have 
made it a den of thieves." 

There are clerical thefts of a less culpable character 
than those impositions of priestcraft which have become 
so notorious, and which have done more than anything 



880 LECTURES TOR THE PEOPLE. 

else to make sceptics, and to bring the name of religion 
into disrepute. It seems to me little less than theft 
when a minister of religion takes another man's sermon 
and preaches it as his own, or takes parts of another 
man's productions without making any suitable acknow- 
ledgment. Probably enough the borrowed sermon is 
far better than the borrower could himself compose ; 
it may be a great mercy to the congregation that the 
minister does borrow; but still, he who adopts this 
practice, and it is a very common one, is fairly charge- 
able with theft and imposture, and it would only serve 
him right if any member of the congregation, who hap- 
pened to detect the prig in the parson, were to stand up in 
the hearing of the whole assembly and address the rev- 
erend drone in these brief but significant terms, " Stop 
thief!" The latest instance of clerical thievery that I 
have heard of, and the worst, is of a very curious char- 
acter, and has been perpetrated with the sanction of the 

>n who claims to be the head and chief of the Chris- 
tian world. A Jewish child has been stolen from his pa- 

3 ; some water, I believe, was sprinkled upon his little 

—lie was thus manufactured into a little Christian, 
and his Holiness, or rather, as I should in this case say, 
his Wickedness, has declared that he cannot be restored 
to his father and mother. Such, I understand, are the 
facts of the case. If I am in error I shall be happy to 

et ri;_ r lit : but if the case be as reported, then I would 
put it to any intelligenl and right-hearted member of 
tin- Church of Rome whether this is not a plain case of 
whether there is any pickpocket, burglar, high- 
wayman, or other vulgar rascal who is guilty of such in- 



stop thief! 381 

fernal scoundrelism as this ? The man who steals, or 
sanctions the stealing of another man's child, deserves to 
be dealt with more severely than any common thief, and 
for this his Holiness deserves, at the very least, to be 
hooted and pelted through the streets of Rome ; saluted 
everywhere with the enquiry, "Who stole the child?" 
If any one chooses to charge me with bigotry because I 
speak thus, he is perfectly welcome to make such a charge. 
If it be bigotry to defend the sacred right of parents, of 
all but inhuman parents, to have their children in their 
own keeping, I am a bigot ; if it be bigotry to protest 
against a proselytism which dares to violate the sanc- 
tuary of a man's home, and to drag his little ones away 
from his parental embrace, I am a bigot ; if it be bigotry 
to execrate, in the very strongest terms that language 
can supply, a system of kidnapping which hypocritically 
assumes the garb of religion, and pretends a concern for 
the salvation of the souls of those kidnapped, then I 
have to say, that in such bigotry I glory. If this theft 
had been committed by some protestant minister, and 
sanctioned by some protestant prelate, I should use lan- 
guage just as strong as that which I now employ. I do 
not speak as a bigoted protestant ; I speak as a man, I 
speak as a father, I speak as a sworn enemy to theft 
and scoundrelism, and as one who hates theft and scoun- 
drelism more and more when they are perpetrated in the 
name of religion ; for, as an old proverb says, " there is 
no rogue like the godly rogue." 

Perhaps I ought to include among the clerical thieves 
those lowest of all rascals, the agents of the Mormon im- 
posture — we cannot dignify them with the name of cler- 



oS'2 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

gy ; but they come in the name of religioa, most self- 
righteOusly proclaim themselves "Latter-day Saints," 
audaciously assume the honored name of Apostles, and, 
unhappily, they have led captive great numbers of our 
. The credence that has been given to these 
swindlers is one of the most miserable facts of the age, 
and may well cause the ministers of all the Christian de- 
nominations to ask what they have been about that so 
much ignorance and superstition still exist amongst us. 
This fanatical imposture has made more dupes in Eng- 
land than in all the world besides. A few years ago 
the British saints were thirty thousand in number, and 
twenty-five thousand copies of the "Millennial Star" 
were sold every week. Here, again, we may well cry, 
" Stop thief;" but this thief can be stopped only by do- 
ing now what ought to have been done long ago, by edu- 
cating the people of this country intellectually and reli- 
giously, in such a manner as to enable them to see 
through the horrible delusion, and to discern that these 
Latter-Day Saints are, pre-eminently, Latter-Day Sin- 
ners. 

I have now to notice another large class of thieves, 
larger far than the clerical; I mean the mercantile 
thieves. In every branch of business there are very 
many thoroughly honest men— more honest men than 
rogues. I am not one of those who consider the whole 
commercial world rotteu and untrustworthy, and believe 
that every man will for his own advantage cheat his cus- 
• when he can. You may talk about gigantic frauds, 
but those very frauds are evidences of the immense 
amount of confidence which men repose in each other, 



stop thief! 383 

and which would not exist if it were not generally justi- 
fied by integrity of character. Amongst a nation of 
rogues there could be few gigantic frauds, because there 
could be but very little trust; indeed I am inclined to 
think that a nation. consisting wholly of rogues would be 
in practice, though not in principle, about the most 
honest in the world. But though there are honest men 
in all trades, in all trades there are thieves too. Thievish 
merchants, with their wicked and nefarious schemes and 
speculations and dodges ; thievish bank directors, sacri- 
ficing without the slightest scruple the interests of the 
shareholders, and reducing them to beggary; thievish 
schemers, marvelously ingenious in getting up the most 
tempting prospectuses, and demonstrating the absolute 
certainty of a return of cent, per cent., and proving that 
two and two are not four, but eight; thievish doctors, 
who undertake with their pills and potions and lotions to 
cure not only every disease that can attack the body, 
but also every infirmity that can afflict the mind, and 
who hire men to write out, at so much a dozen, authentic 
accounts of extraordinary instances of recovery ; thievish 
drapers, plastering the walls with enormous sacrifices, 
which are enormous lies, and selling at the same time 
their goods, as they call them, and their customers too ; 
thievish grocers, adulterating one article, and giving 
short weight in another, calling the spurious genuine and 
the bad superior; thievish confectioners, cheating the 
rising generation with plaster of Paris, and poisoning 
them with arsenic, and painting their lollypops with sub- 
stances that are utterly hostile to human life ; thievish 
clothes sellers, who grind their work-people to the very 



384 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

bone, behave to them more cruelly than any slave owner 
tolii- and advertise at "only 61 5s., this splendid 

and fashionable coat!" made of rotten cloth, and Bewn 
withrotten thread; thievish butchers, dealing in carrion. 
These are only a few specimens ; there are many in < 
trades. In these, and in all other departments of busi- 
ness, I say again, there are men of sterling honesty, 
who are too conscientious, and have too much self-respect 
to stoop to trickery and fraud; but in these and all 
other departments of business there are many who pursue 
a regular system of fraud, and who stick at nothing that 
is shabby, nothing that is mean, nothing that is bad, 
nothing that is untrue, if by the shabby, the mean, the 
bad, and the untrue, they can only turn a penny. For 
all this the public have themselves to blame in a great 
measure. There is a most unwise rage for cheap things, 
and it is not considered that low prices mean low quali- 
ties, that cheap and nasty generally stand in intimate 
relationship, and that a great bargain is often a great 
sell. I may be in error ; I may be uncharitable ; but 
certainly when I see that a man makes great pretensions, 
defies all competition, and declares that his is the best 
and cheapest house in the trade, I am always disposed to 
say to such a man, "Stop thief! remember 'thou shalt 
not steal."' We shall stop such q, wisely 

considering our own inter< to patronise cheap 

Jacks, and act on this prim iple, that what is good is 
;j>, and that what is had is dear at any price. 
Working men, mechanics, and laborers, perhaps, con- 
sider that they at all events do not steal; their employ- 
er's money is not entrusted to them; and of their mas- 



stop thief! 385 

ter's other property — iron, lead, copper, brass, timber, 
paint, bricks, mortar, stone, and implements — they ap- 
propriate not an atom to themselves. All this may be 
very true, and yet, if I am not much mistaken, there 
are few men who have more opportunities of stealing 
than those presented to the mechanic and the laborer, 
and to suppose that there are no thieves amongst them 
would be such a stretch of charity as facts will scarcely 
warrant. Granted that the workman would scorn to 
appropriate to himself the smallest piece of iron in the 
scrap heap, or the smallest chip amongst the shavings, 
still there is that important element of Time, which he 
has sold to his employer at so much a day, and unless 
that time be faithfully spent in the employer's service, 
the workman is guilty of theft. It may be the master's 
duty, as it certainly is his interest, to look after his men, 
to see to it that they are at the workshop at the proper 
time, and that they do not idle away their time when 
there; but it is to a man's disgrace if he requires this 
looking after. His time is no longer his own; he has 
made a clear and deliberate sale of it, and he is in all 
honor bound to spend it, not in utterly slavish toil, but 
in rendering such an amount of work as he would him- 
self expect if he were the employer. There ought to be, 
and there must be, a measure of sociality in the workshop. 
Men work all the better if they have their pleasant bit 
of chit-chat, and relieve the monotony of labor with 
good-humored conversation and hearty laughter. Let 
them have their talk, their debate, their fun, their mer- 
rimeni ; they will be rendered all the more active thereby, 

and do a better day's work than if each kept himself to 
25 



386 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

himself, like a prisoner in his cell. There is much 
social] hops. Those -who think that they are 

scenes of unmitigated and severe labor know nothing 
about them. I know of no place in which there is Less 
ring or less dulness than a spacious, airy workshop, 
with its complement of men and boys. But st ; ill there 
is often much idle gossip, there is often a good deal of 
skulking, and this every workman knows is, so much 
downright theft; it is cabbaging the master's time. Let 
it be remembered then that the command, "Thou shalt 
not steal," applies to time as well as to other things; 
that to steal an employer's time is just as criminal as to 
go to his cash-box and abstract from it, in the coin of 
the realm, the value of the time that is willfully wasted 
in idleness, and spent in talking or skulking, to the ne 
gleet of the work in hand. 

There is a large number of persons, principally young 
men, who are exposed to many temptations, which tend 
to the violation of this law, and in many cases unhappily 
the temptation is yielded to. The youth has probably 
been first allured to some haunt of vicious indulgence, 
where all that can inflame and gratify his passions is to 
be found. His first visit was perhaps prompted by curi- 
osity ; or he went, because his companions bantered him 
about hie ; . laughed at his ignorance of the world, 

and ridiculed all his virtuous inclinations. He soon be- 
comes entangled in the skillfully-laid meshes of vice ; he 
finds that sensual indulgence is too expensive for his 
menu- ; but he feels that he must have it, cost what it 
will. The result we well know. It is seen in the nu- 
merous cases of embezzlement which are recorded in the 



stop thief! 387 

chronicles of crime ; and, there are far more numerous 
cases which are hushed up, to save a respectable family 
from public exposure and disgrace. I have been told, 
by men whose word is to be relied on, that at the very 
least o£10,000 a-year are thus stolen from the merchants 
and other employers in Liverpool alone, in sums varying 
from a few shillings to several hundreds of pounds; and 
the unhappy youths detected in such frauds are of 
course in most cases ruined for life. It is very possible 
that there are many young men here who are exposed 
to this danger, who have not yet plunged deeply into 
vice, but are upon the verge of destruction ; the seduc- 
tions of vicious pleasures have begun to fascinate them ; 
they have themselves begun to yield already. My dear 
friends, if you do not retrace your steps, the probability 
is that you will become dishonest. There are many 
things that are cheap ; there is one thing that keeps up 
its price, and is expensive still, and that is vice ; this is 
never cheap. If these licentious practices into which 
you are rushing were not in themselves criminal, still 
they must lead to crime, because you cannot afford them, 
and you know that you cannot afford them; in one even- 
ing they may involve you in expenses equal to half your 
annual salary. Suffer a word of kind remonstrance. 
Remember those wise words, the words of Solomon, 
"My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not." If 
you give way, if you allow your animal passions to gain 
the mastery over your good sense, over your conscience, 
you know as well as I that those imperious passions will 
involve you in expenses which will betray you into dis- 
honesty ; and what a disgrace it will b@ to your family, 



388 LECTURES FOR TTTE TEC-rLE. 

what bitterness to jour parents, what ruin to your 
ipt it will briii;: upon you, what utter d 

retrieve jour position, and what guiltiness in 

ight of God, if jou should be branded as a thief! 

And don't be so foolish as to think that you can stand, 

e so many as strong as jou, and stronger, have 

fallen; "He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool." 

There is another class of persons, and a very extensive 
class, who I dare say will consider themselves grossly 
insulted when they are pronounced to be thieves. I 
mean people who willfully run into debt, without a 
reasonable prospect of being able to meet their engage- 
ments fully and punctually. However, I do not hesitate 
for a moment to say to every such person, "Stop thief!" 
I do not say that all men who are in debt, or that all 
men who are insolvent, deserve to be stigmatised as 
thieves ; but I do believe that a great number of them, 
that most of them, do most richly deserve such a 
designation. Debt, when contracted without a fair and 
certain prospect of punctual payment, is, in plain 
English, theft. I have spoken of thievish tradesmen; 
but let us deal fairly; there are thievish customers, too. 
There's many a man who will walk down to business 
to-morrow morning, who might very properly be followed 
along the street by his tailor, shoemaker, hatter, butcher, 
baker, landlord, and washerwoman, one and all exclaim- 
ing, "Stop thief!" How pleasant to have such a hue- 
and-cry at your heels ! — " Stop thief," and pay for your 
coat, says one; Give me those boots, says another; 
That's my hat, says a third; You have been stealing my 
beef and mutton for six months, says a fourth ; Pay for 



STOP THIEF ! 389 

your wife's crinoline, says a fifth. You would not like 
that. Well, then, don't run into debt ; in other words, 
don't be a thief. 

Thieves. Yes ; there are far more thieves in society 
than many persons suppose. The professional swindlers 
are a very small proportion of the thievishly inclined, 
though among the professional swindlers I would class 
those whom I have just mentioned, viz., extravagant 
people, who willfully run into debt, and, assuming a tone 
of respectability, enter a shop and order goods, without 
the least intention of paying for them, or intending to 
stave off the payment as long as possible, thus robbing 
the tradesman of the use of his money. But again, let 
me point out another lot of thieves, who would be very 
angry, and would ask you what you meant, if you were 
boldly to accuse them of theft. I call that man a thief 
who spends his wages in drink, instead of devoting them 
to the support of his family ; and that man knows that I 
call him by his right name ; and he is of all thieves the 
most heartless, for he robs his wife and his children, and 
I hold that that is worse than even robbing a church. 
There is no housebreaker or highwayman more guilty in 
the sight of God, than he who robs his family of the food, 
the raiment, the education, the comfort which he is able 
to provide for them, and to which they have an indisputa- 
ble claim. I don't accuse the r'i)licans of the theft ; 
perhaps they do too often tempt men to part with their 
money ; perhaps their establishments have something of 
the character of traps set to catch fools ; but still it is ail 
nonsense for a sottish fellow to abuse the publican, or the 
keeper of the singing saloon and the hop. Such men 



£90 LEe ; OR THE PBOPLB. 

nave their own responsibilities, but you and I arc u 

iter and remain in the 
g our time and money there. Accuse the publi- 
! No, my friend, accuse yourself, and think whether 
your wife and children would not be perfectly ju 
crying to you, " Stop thief!" — "Thou shalt not St 

commandment, I am sure, must forbid such theft as 
makes one's own flesh and blood the victims of our 
dishonesty. "Thou shalt not steal" from thy ma 
"thou shalt not steal" from thy neighbor; above all, 
" thou shalt not steal" from thine own children. Tl 
the true light in which to regard all those costly evenings 
at the tavern, and all that time which is lost thr 
intemperance, and all the domestic wretchedness arising 
from such dissipation ; all ought to be regarded a 
much downright theft — theft which the law of man cannot 
reach, but theft still, proved to be so by the instincts of 
nature and the "Word of God. 

I have spoken of thievish persons ; I shall now speak 
for a few moments of thievish things, of things that have 
a tendency to steal from us our time, our brains, our 
opportunities of improvement, our consciences, our souls, 
our hope of eternal life. 

And first, there arc thievish amusements; in fact all 

indulged in I some thieves; and 

that amusements are 'ndulged in to excess I am very 

. for, as I have often Baid, a large proportion of our 

young people seem to think that to amusements they arc 

perfect liberty to devote the whole of their leisure 

time. And really the entertainments provided for the 

pleasure-loving public are often contemptibly trivial 



STOP THIEF I 391 

and foolish, where they are not positively vicious. Mu- 
sic, poetry, and the drama are often utterly degraded, 
and the result is that the people's tastes are depraved, 
rather than improved. It is not to our credit that such 
miserable trumpery is in such high repute. It is not to 
our credit that the grimaces of a comic singer, the an- 
tics of a posture-master, the caperings of a ballet dancer, 
the feats of a giant, the exhibition of a dwarf, and the 
tricks of a magician, prove such "immense attractions," 
and collect such crowds of gaping spectators. Perhaps 
you will say that I have no taste for amusements ; pro- 
bably I have not; but one of my objections to such 
amusements is, that they are not amusing enough, that 
they are so senseless, so insipid, so extremely poor, so 
destitute of the salt of wisdom and of wit. If we are to 
have amuse naents at all, let us have such as are worthy 
of us as intelligent men, and not mere silliness and stu- 
pidity. But of this I am strongly persuaded, that our 
amusements are robbing us of our time, and have the 
tendency to make us weak and effeminate ; and I think 
it would be well for some of us to stop these thieves, or, 
at the very least, to reduce their number, to guard 
against this passion for mere amusement, and to consider 
in how many much more reasonable ways our leisure 
may be spent, than in the frivolities and foolishness 
which so often make up a popular entertainment. That 
men should spend evening after evening in listening to 
the fooleries of comic songs, and the trash of sentimental 
songs, and the balderdash of patriotic songs, or in wit- 
nessing the gambols of some human ape — this, I say, 
gays little for our intelligence, and we must not allow 



392 LECTURES FOR TUE PEOPLE. 

such tom-foolcrics to steal away our precious, our invalu- 
able time ; even if we knew that we should live to the 
age of Methuselah, we could not afford such a waste. 

Again, there are many hooks which must he pro- 
nounced thievish ; hooks that neither inform the under- 
standing nor improve the heart ; books that are not sim- 
ply negative in their character, but positively injurious 
to the reader's morals, utterly poisonous to his soul ; 
books full of voluptuousness, ribaldry, and filth ; books 
that may be pronounced the very carrion of literature — 
carrion which multitudes with vulturous appetites devour, 
in preference to intellectual food of a wholesome charac- 
ter. An Italian proverb teaches us that there is no 
worse robber than a bad book. It destroys our taste 
for useful reading, it steals from us our moral principles, 
it instils the love of vice, it inflames the p r ssions, and 
leads us straight to hell. I know that I am speaking to 
some who feel that what I say is true, whose moral na- 
ture has suffered and is suffering still from the perusal 
of such works ; works which they would be ashamed to 
confess that "they have ever read; and I say to them, 
Stop these thieves, and commit them to the flames. 
From nasty literature a man may shrink with disgust, 
having no appetite for carrion and garbage, and yet he 
may allow light literature to come the thief over him. 
Novels and romances are the rage; they constitute the 
main element of circulating libraries, and many minds 
live upon them, and upon nothing else. Do not suppose 
that I take upon myself to condemn such publications, 
although, so far as I have tried to read them, they have 
proved to me, for the most part, excessively dull ; they 



STOP THIEF ! 3,T3 

have their use, I suppose, in the intellectual economy of 
our nature ; but like a friend whom you are very glad 
to see occasionally, but whose oft repeated visits you 
would regard as a robbery upon your time, so the novel 
and romance may be very well now and then, but their 
encroachments should be guarded against, lest they rob 
us not only of time, but also of intellectual vigor, and 
perseverance in the pursuit of knowledge, and the prose- 
cution of that education which is to fit us for the earnest 
struggles of life. 

Further, and finally, there is a group of thieves to which 
every man's attention ought to be carefully directed. There 
is a group of thieves who can do us far more injury than pro- 
fessed swindlers or knavish tradesmen, there is a group 
of thieves in every man's heart. For every evil passion 
and propensity of our nature is a thief, who would rob 
us of th'at which is of all things most precious — our soul's 
salvation. Envy, for example, is a thief, that steals 
from us all comfort and peace ; anger is a thief, that 
robs us of our self-possession and control ; lust is a thief, 
and fearful are its depredations ; it steals away all genu- 
ine love, all pity, all respect for innocence, all regard 
for the welfare of others, for our own character, and for 
the law of God. It robs a man of his health, weakens 
hirr in body, degrades him in mind, makes him an object 
of insufferable disgust, converts him into something 
worse than a beast, brings him down to the grave, and 
sends him to a well-merited damnation. Avarice also is 
a thief, that deludes its victim by heaping up stores of 
wealth, while it steals away his soul ; a thief that, under 
the plausible pretence of prudence and of thrift, induces 



394 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

that hardness of heart, that love of the world, that dis- 
ition, that forgetfulness of God, that earth- 
bound condition of the affections, which are utterly in- 

latible with the Christian character and the .salva- 
tion of the soul. Yes; the heart, which is pronoun 
by the highest authority to be " deceitful above all 
things, and desperately wicked," is often little else than 
a den of thieves, and of most subtle, cunning thieves — 
thieves within, that are in league with a thousand thiev- 
ish temptations without, and open the door for their 
admission, and thus the soul is plundered, wounded, and 
destroyed. Against these let us watch, against these 
strive, against these pray, lest all our hopes of a glori- 
ous immortality, all our desires for a glorious immortal- 
ity, and all our capability of enjoying a glorious im- 
mortality be stolen from us ; and may God's almighty 
grace slay these thieves, otherwise they will slay us. 
The thief against whom it is most needful that every 
man should stand upon his guard is himself. And, in 
fact, alt sin is theft, when we consider it aright; for 
whenever we do wrong, we rob God of that obedience 
which we owe to him as our Greater and our King; and 
when he says, "Thou shalt not steal," he means not 
only "Thou shalt not steal from th;. bor, thou 

shalt not steal from thy master, thou shalt not steal 
from thy family, thou shalt not steal from thyself," but 

immandment has further and deeper mean- 

ing, " Thou shalt not steal from Me." 



THE DEVIL'S MEAL IS ALL BRAN. 395 



LECTURE XXI 



THE DEVILS MEAL IS ALL BRAN. 

This is a wise and weighty old saying, founded on the 
experience of ages, and confirmed by facts of every-day 
occurrence ; true from the beginning, true now, true for 
evermore; true on a small scale, true on a great ; nations 
as well as individuals bearing testimony to its correct- 
ness, and proving that the wisdom of our ancestors was 
never less at fault than when it delivered this homely 
sentence — " The devil's meal is all bran." I believe the 
saying is French, and there are two versions of it ; 
"The devil's meal is all bran," and "The devil's meal 
is half bran." Believing the former to be much nearer 
the truth than the latter, I have adopted it as my motto 
on this occasion. Half bran ! what, the other half good, 
satisfying, nutritious food ? Not at all ; to say that the 
devil's meal is only half bran, is to give it too good a 
character ; it is so very nearly all bran, that I feel it 
right to take the stronger version of the proverb. Do 
you ask for illustrations ? — illustrations abound. Here 
is c e, furnished by the very earliest age of human his- 



396 LECTURES EOR THE PEOrLE. 

tory. When the subtle serpent tempted Eve, and Eve 

tempted Adam, to eat 

* * * the fruit 

Of that Foi ' -, whose mortal taste 

Brought death into the world with all our woe, 

to their cost, and to the cost of the whole human race, 
it was proved that "the devil's meal is all bran." Illus- 
trations ! here's another ; when King Solomon, the wis- 
est of mortals, turned himself into a fool, surrounding 
himself with seven hundred wives and three hundred 
concubines, and revelling in all manner of voluptuous 
excess, he soon found that all was vanity and vexation 
of spirit. The devil's meal — had not he a lot of it ? — 
no man ever possessed a larger stock, but it proved to 
be all bran. This man, whom God had fed with "the 
finest of the wheat," in his miserable infatuation bar- 
tered it for the devil's bran, and he lived to rue his bar- 
gain. When Judas betrayed his Master, he got some- 
where about <£3 10s. for the transaction ; there was the 
money, good solid silver, but on looking at it more close- 
ly, he saw that it was in reality "the devil's meal, all 
bran," and he went and hanged himself. And if we 
. for illustrations of this maxim on a large scale, we 
find one in the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, 
brought about in a great measure by the licentiousness 
of the Kmnan p tnd another in the fact that the 

er which the Spaniards obtained by so much 
cruel extortion, instead "I" making Spain prosperous, 
e had quite the opp t ; those treasures 

were the devil's meal, proving to be nothing but bran, 



THE DEVIL'S MEAL IS ALL BRAN. 397 

and Spain has been starved by it, not fed. So much 
for historical illustrations of our motto. 

That "the devil's meal is all bran," often appears in 
the lives of criminals, who try to live on the devil's meal, 
and on that only. Of course, when. they are "nabbed" 
and sent to gaol, the penal settlement, or the gallows, 
every one admits that "the devil's meal" turns out to 
be " all bran." However, notwithstanding the vigilance 
of the police force, the perpetrators of crime are not all 
"nabbed;" and all who are "nabbed" are not convicted, 
and all who are convicted are not punished according to 
their deserts, but in our prisons have much better fare 
than "the devil's meal" — much better fare than many 
an honest poor man in his own house ; for a man has 
only to commit a crime, and society at once sympathises 
with him as an unfortunate person, and begins to think 
how mildly he may be treated. But supposing the 
criminal to escape, which he often does — for neither 
murder or theft does always out — still our motto is true ; 
very few thieves become rich and prosperous ; the cost- 
liest plunder is very soon dissipated, and the swell-mobs- 
man is generally very hard up, feasting one day, and 
starving ten. 

Looking at his trade from a mere business point of 
view, I should say it is not at all a profitable trade ; it is 
objectionable upon pecuniary, as well as moral grounds. 
Most persons will admit, I dare say the swell-mobsman 
himself will admit, that such " devil's meal" as his is 
"all bran;" and not only Eobson, and Redpath, and 
other criminals who have been detected, know to their 
cost the truth of this saying, but those who are at large, 



398 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

planning their cunning scheme?, watching their opportu- 
nity, or dividing the spoil, all know that it is a poor 
business after all; that, considering the risks they run, 
re contemptibly small. I am not addressing 
;s now, for I don't think that many men of their 
order honor us with a visit here ; but if ever this lecture 
should reach the eye of such a person, I hope he will 
just consider this matter. I might of course take much 
higher ground, and speak of the sinfulness of his conduct 
in the sight of God and man ; but now I confine myself 
to this one point — the merely secular aspect of a career 
of dishonesty and theft. It is a life of misery, a life of 
shame, a life of poverty. " Let him that stole, steal no 
more, but rather let him labor, working with his own 
hands the thing that is good," and he will find this more 
pleasant and more profitable too. 

An expert thief has talents, which can be far more 
profitably invested than in dishonest practices ; the men 
who stole the gold on the South Eastern Railway were 
men of no mean ability ; men who, by the honest exer- 
cise of their wits, might have done well in the world, 
and obtained something better than the "devil's meal" 
to live upon. An old prove: ; An honest man 

has half as much more brains as he needs, while a knave 
has not half enough." The former part of this saying 
not be correct, but the latter is very true ; no man 
has brains enough to make his knavery, in the long 
run. '"id. Of the extent to which the eighth 

commandment, "Thou shalt not steal," is violated, you 
may not all be aware. It may be well to state, for your 
information, that the number of such crimes committed 



THE DEVIL'S MEAL IS ALL BRAN. 399 

in this borough, during the year ending last September, 
was somewhere about 6000 ; considerably over 100 such 
cases are perpetrated, or, what is morally the same thing, 
attempted, every week, in this town. The value of the 
property is undoubtedly immense. In a list of about 
8500 apprehensions, I find the value of the stolen 
property put down at nearly .£13,000, so that the 6000 
cases of last y ear-probably grossed £20,000. It would 
also appear that the number of women apprehended 
for theft is considerably greater than the number of men ; 
a fact to be accounted for, I suppose, by the robberies so 
commonly committed by prostitutes. Altogether, about 
3000 persons were apprehended for offences of this 
nature, and of the offenders, about 300 were under 18 
years of age. Three thousand were apprehended, but 
of course large numbers escaped detection. There are 
not a few, then, in Liverpool, who need to have this 
lesson impressed upon their minds — "The devil's meal is 
all bran." 

The gambler is another illustration of our text; 
whatever form his gambling may assume, cards, dice, 
billiards, or the turf, the proceeds are "the devil's meal, 
all bran." Immense sums of money change hands in 
gambling, yet, strange to say, no one appears to get 
rich by it. A bright specimen appeared before the 
public a little while ago, in the shape of a young man, a 
very young man, and very green, who on a visit to 
London went to a gaming house, and lost in one night 
,£8000, and in a very short time was eased of £25,000. 
Here is another illustration ; I quote a letter which 
appeared some months ago in the Times, with reference 



400 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

to an event which took place somewhere on the Rhine. 
U A young man, said to be an officer in the Dutch service, 
who had just lost everything he possessed at play, blew 
out his brains while sitting at the gaming table. A 
momentary pause took place, but very shortly, even 
before the poor man's blood had been washed from the 
floor, gambling was resumed as madly as before. A 
wick only previous to this event, an English officer 
destroyed himself under like circumstances at Hamburg." 
Sufcide is in fact a very common occurrence in the gam- 
bling houses of the Continent. "When the gambler kills 
himself, it is bad enough, but he sometimes puts other 
people quietly out of the way. The most frightful illus- 
tration which our motto ever received, perhaps, was the 
well-known case of Palmer. That man's fearful history 
let some daylight into the dark practices of the turf, and 
showed what betting men are, what temptations they 
rush into, and what ways and means they can resort to 
sometimes, to get out of their difficulties. The races ! 
Confound the races ; they are the source of mischiefs 
that defy all calculation; the grand stand is the devil's 
throne; there he reigns, with fraud in his right hand and 
eration in his left. The two main dements of 
gambling, in all its forms, are scoundrelism and duplicity. 
If you wanl to have ocular demonstration of this, just go 
to the railway station, on the morning of a day on which 
some of the important "events" are to come off. Just 
look at that crowd; there are only two colors, black and 
!i ; the green, however, largely predominates. It is 
rong of rascals and simpletons; most evidently so; 
fozee and geese; wolves and sheep; butchers and calves. 



THE DEVIL'S MEAL IS ALL BRAN. 401 

Guard ! pull up at Walton ; there's a number of gentle- 
men who don't want to be put down there (at the gates 
of the gaol), but who ought to be put down there ; then 
go on with the rest of your cargo to Aintree. 

I wonder that any man, who has in his composition a 
particle of self-respect, should attend the general assem- 
bly of knaves, idlers, boobies, and harlots, who consti- 
tute the great majority of the congregation. But you 
say there are noblemen there ; yes, not at all improbable 
that, but gentlemen don't go to such places ; and even 
princes are to be found there; yes, that's very possible 
too; there's one Prince who is never absent, " the Prince 
of darkness." The race course is the devil's parade 
ground, the place where he reviews his troops, and puts 
them through their exercises. The essence of gambling 
is, that there shall be a rascal and a fool ; a rascal without 
money — a fool who has some. One sees plainly enough 
that the fool is likely to get nothing but "devil's meal," 
but the transaction seems to promise well for the other 
party; with "fast" young blockheads, prepared to lose 
<£8,000 in one night, the gambler ought to thrive; with 
loaded dice, called despatches, because they so quickly 
despatch the dupe's fortune, the gambler ought to be always 
very flush of money; destitute as he is of all honorable 
principle, all conscientious scruples, all compassionate 
feeling towards his victim, pitying him as little as the 
tiger pities the lamb, he ought to become a man of sub- 
stance. But with all his cunning, somehow or other, he 
does not prosper; he is generally floundering in low 
water, and very muddy water too. He begins to think 
of insuring somebody's life for a large sum, and then 
26 



402 § LECTURES FOB THE TEOPLE. 

lielping him off with a dose of strychnine. In very few 
cases, let us hope in noD the one which we too 

well know, does it come to this; hut Palmer's case shows 
how hard up the gambler often is; and when a gambler 
is hard up, I for one would prefer giving him rather a 
berth. Of such a man, whatever be his luck, we 
must say, in the words of Scripture, "He hath swallowed 
down riches, and he shall vomit them up again." " The 
prosperity" — yes, "the prosperity," not the adversity — 
"of fools shall destroy them." Therefore if ever you 
have tried your hand at any form of gambling, I hope 
you have been a loser; don't think me uncharitable, it 
is the most charitable hope I can cherish. "The man 
who always wins, carries a halter in his pocket." If a 
man entering upon a gambling career loses, and loses 
heavily, perhaps he will be discouraged; perhaps his 
good sense may have a chance of remonstrating with 
him, and persuading him to retire from the dangerous 
sport ; but if he wins, and wins much, he is drawn into 
the fatal circle; the poison has taken effect; the spell 
has bound him, and probably it's all over with him. To 
lose is to win, and to win is to lose. Depend upon it, 
"the best throw of the dice is to throw them away," for 
"the devil goes shares in gaming." Rely upon it, if 
money is your object, gambling is not the way to obtain 
it; almost every gambler, sooner or later, goes to the 
] greater his success, the more is he urged on 
r li ;izards. It's a poor business; one in which 
men lose fortunes, but never keep them. Moreover it is 
an unhappy business; there is not a gloomier set of men 
in the world than your betting men; they are always 



THE DEVIL'S MEAL IS ALL BRAN. 403 

standing on the edge of a precipice; they are in per- 
petual danger of being reduced to beggary. And fur- 
ther it is an immoral business. We are all of us subject 
to temptations numerous enough and strong enough, but 
the gambler rushes into a thousand temptations which he 
might avoid; his whole life courts temptation, and he 
eventually becomes the very pink and pattern of roguery. 
And when rogue meets rogue, then comes the tug of 
scoundrelism. Three robbers, or three gamblers, (the 
terms are as nearly as possible synonymous,) once ob- 
tained a treasure, and agreed upon an equal apportion- 
ment. One of them was sent to buy food, that they 
might have a "spread" upon the occasion, and as he 
went he determined to poison a part of it, so that he 
might get rid of his accomplices, and have the money all 
to himself; the other two, in the meanwhile, resolved to 
murder him on his return, and so be able to enjoy one 
half of the booty. They carried out their purpose, and 
then sa.t down to their victuals, ate the poisoned food, 
and died. Thus all three were despatched ; and so it is — - 
roguery defeats its own ends, and finds to its cost that 
"the devil's meal is all bran." 

There is much of the "devil's meal" obtained in dif- 
ferent departments of business. Whatever is made by 
means of the devil's tricks, is the "devil's meal." 
Now it strikes me that "salting" invoices is a devil's 
trick; working by means of accommodation bills has 
been proved to be a devil's trick ; paying poor deluded 
shareholders a dividend out of their capital, and making 
away with their money bodily in dangerous speculations, 
these are devil's tricks; lending money on such terms as 



404 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

it is often lent by loan societies is a devil's trick; to im- 
pose up' (and there are some scores of 
licensed ruffians in this town, in connection with still 
more ruffianly 'S, -who live by plundering end- 
ed seamen, and selling them what they are 
to call goods, at some thousands per cent, ahove 
their value), this is one of the worst of the devil's tricks. 
Short weights and short measures; pints of which it 
would take three at the very least to make a quart; 
spools of thread labelled to contain so many yards, 
whereas the purchaser is lucky if she gets as many feet 
off them ; false representations of the quantity or quality of 
any article bought or sold; — I say these are devil's tricks, 
which every man ought to be too proud — to say nothing of 
higher considerations, too proud — to stoop to. But, you will 
say, if these things be the devil's tricks, still they produce 
something better than bran : men make money 
them; thrive and grow rich by them. There's T. Puff, 

. . he lives in great magnificence ; why he would have 
been as poor as a rat, if he had not got out the most 
screaming advertisements; if he had not sent men about 
the streets, having one lie on their breast, and another 
on their back ; if he had not stuck up his name in rail- 
way stations, railway carriages, omnibuses, and plastered 
all the dead walls of the town with lies, at the very least 
six feet square. That's the way he has done it ; that's 
the way he hooked the fools, and got on so gloriously, 
another keen, shrewd man of 1 : his 

ng men understand him; they know that if they 
don't effect a sale, but let customer after customer depart 
without the thinjz such customers do not want, their ser- 



THE DEVIL'S MEAL IS ALL BEAN. 405 

vices will be no longer required; and they will be dis- 
missed, if not for too much honesty, for too little impu- 
dence. And there's another, who contrives to teach his 
apprentices how to sell something more than 112 lbs. of 
tea and sugar by retail out of a cwt., and gives that ap- 
prentice or assistant a premium, who can prove, by his 
adroitness in managing the scales, that the old tables 
which he learnt at school, though right enough when you 
buy, are all wrong when you sell; that 15 and not 16 
ounces make one lb. ; that 13 J lbs. and not 14 make one 
stone; or rather that both the pound and the stone are 
whatever the customer seems likely to submit to. Thus 
by little and little the man has got rich; for it's amazing 
what even half ounces will clo, filched from the poor 
man's wife, who comes in for her half pound of sugar 
and her quarter of tea. It's amazing how even the 
paper tells in a large number of little parcels. I am far 
from supposing that a licensed victualler cannot keep 
his house honestly; I am far from supposing that there 
are not licensed victuallers who clo act with the strictest 
integrity; but there are many who sell drink to a cus- 
tomer, when their well-experienced eye and ear tell them 
that that customer has had more than any sober man, 
though not a tee-totaller, would pronounce good for him. 
I see men and women reeling into public-houses, sup- 
porting themselves at the counter of the gin-palace; I 
hear them asking for drink, they get it, and then reel 
out again. No wonder money should be made under 
such circumstances, and that ,£1,000 should be asked for 
the incoming of a " spirit vaults, in a first-rate drinking 



406 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

neighborhood, very near the police court," as an adver- 
tiser Bays, with admirable simplicity. 

Well, fortunes arc made by roguery; I don't deny it. 
Men can and do make money, lots of money, by the 
tricks which the devil has put them up to, or which, 
without the devil's help, they have invented for them- 
selves. But still, in many instances, this fortune, before 
it is well-built, comes tumbling about their heads, and 
they lie sprawling in the ruins, or are conveyed to the 
Bankruptcy Court, where I confess they often receive 
the kindest attention, especially if their fall has been 
severe, and if many people have suffered from the catas- 
trophe. Smash on a small scale, and the world will 
kick you; smash on a grand scale, and the world will 
feel honored by being kicked by you. 

Go down for a thousand pounds, and you will be called 
a rascal, and no one will trust you ; go down for a quar- 
ter of a million, ruin a hundred men by your fall, sweep 
away the livelihood of widows and orphans, let the poor 
all of the aged and bed-ridden be engulfed and lost, and 
you will be pronounced unfortunate, and your credit be 
established for life. But suppose the ill-gotten fortune 
is not lost, still the fortune is not the only thing the 
man gets. He has made inoney, purchased houses and 
hinds and shares; he is no rash speculator; he believes 
that "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush;" he 
ks to his money, it is all Securely invested; well, he 
has made something beside all this. If God's Word be 
true, he has made both a fortune and damnation for 
himself; he is in a miserable position; he has robbed, 
and yet he can make no restoration ; he does not know 



THE DEVIL'S MEAL IS ALL BRAN. 407 

whom, or how many, he has plundered ; he cannot give 
every poor customer the quarter of an ounce of tea of 
which he has defrauded him. Let him give ever so mu- 
nificently to public charities and religious societies, God 
says, "I hate robbery for a burnt offering." " The sa- 
crifice of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord." 
No ! he has sold himself to do evil, and if he repent not 
most bitterly of his, wickedness, and do not cast himself 
in all contrition on the mercy of his God, he will find, 
not here perhaps, but certainly hereafter, that "the 
devil's meal is all bran." The money that is unright- 
eously acquired seldom benefits its owner. I have been 
told that almost all the fortunes made by slavery were 
squandered and lost. A curse seemed to rest upon the 
price of blood. I have myself observed that many 
of the men who have kept public-houses in which much 
money was spent, much disorderly conduct permitted, 
do not flourish ; but often themselves, by a most right- 
eous retribution, fall victims to the very vice which, for 
selfish purposes, they have encouraged in others. But 
granted that wealth is accumulated, it is possible to buy 
gold too dear ; and when it is bought at the cost of 
moral principle, no mortal man can estimate at how 
much above its value it is purchased. 

Once more, the truth of our motto is exemplified, in 
the vast number of persons who indulge in habits of dis- 
sipation. Here is a man, whom I saw drunk yesterday ; 
he had lost his reason, he had lost his speech, he had 
lost his balance ; and his sight too was all wrong, for 
he saw double ; he had most evidently been sick ; unable 
to stand steady, he had fallen and cut his head open, 



408 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

and torn his coat; altogether he was in a most frightful 

state, a .state of which every respectable beast would 
have been utterly ashamed; he evidently suffered much, 
or, if he was insensible to physical pain, he suffered suck 
shocking degradation, as cannot be expressed in words. 
1 see him to-day, dull, moping, melancholy, blear-eyed, 
looking the very picture of wretchedness. Now, I'll ask 
him a question, a rather unusual question, but still in 
my opinion a very reasonable one. My good man, I 
saw you last night in that curious condition, when you 
were destitute of reason, of speech, of the power of 
standing, and of the power of seeing clearly ; how much 
did you get for making such an exhibition of yourself ? 
" How much did I get ? why you are a fool, you are 
adding insult to injury." No, I am not altogether a 
fool ; I don't mean it as an insult, I only inquire how 
much did you get for that display ? You ought to have 
been handsomely paid for it ; at the very least you ought 
to have had a sovereign for it ; many men would not 
£10,000 as an equivalent for the disgrace ; so I 
ask again, how much did you get ? " Get, indeed — I 
spent a sovereign to enable me to make such an ass of 
myself!" What! you spent a tgn for the privi- 

of getting into that pleasant c< —then I 

think you will admit that in your ease "the devil's meal 
is all bran," or something i . Why you 

it to be taken around in a show ; you ought to tra- 
rith a me: and be di with the elephant 

and t1 ' 1, bear. " Least exactly, ladies and 

gentlem< i is in the habit of paying a 

for p irmission to become a beast 



THE DEVIL'S MEAL IS ALL BRAN. 409 

•pro tern. In fact lie spent most of his money in this 
way ; he was so dissatisfied with having been created a 
man, that he availed himself of every opportunity of 
putting his humanity off; the animal which he is most 
ambitious of imitating, and into which he desires most 
earnestly to transform himself, is the pig, for he is never 
easy until he wallows, and grunts, and falls asleep in 
the mire ; such, ladies and gentlemen, are the peculiar- 
ities of this strange creature. The name by which he is 
known is very short, it is simply this, the Sot ; a French 
word, which signifies a fool. And now we turn to the 
rhinoceros, an animal of much higher intelligence, and 
much less offensive habits." The intemperate man knows, 
better than I can tell him, that my text applies most 
exactly to his case ; thieves may make something by 
their thieving, gamblers may make something by their 
gambling, dishonest traders may make something by 
their dishonest trading, but he makes nothing by his 
drinking ; it is all loss, there is nothing to balance the 
account ; or if he says that the merriment and joviality 
of the earlier hours of his debauch be a gain, he knows 
that for every ounce of joy, he has a hundred weight of 
sorrow. My friend, do be persuaded to buy no more of 
the devil's meal ; why should you barter all your time, 
your work, your health, your intellect, your furniture, 
the comfort of your family, for such stuff as this ? Talk 
about bad bargains, where is there a worse ? You would 
be ashamed to be taken in and chiseled by a tradesman, 
or a pedlar ; you expect and insist on having your " mo- 
ney's worth" for money ; but shrewd as you are in all 
your other dealings, when it comes to gin, you allow 



410 LECTURES FOR TIIE PEOPLE. 

yourself to be done out of every farthing, to be robbed 
of jour e For this, men sell their watches, ami 

women pawn their wedding rings and the clothes taken 
oil' their little children's backs; for this, neither body 
nor soul is considered too high a price. Gracious God, 
have mercy on people who are so destitute of common 
sense, and so enslaved by a vile, disgusting, and soul- 
destroying habit such as this. What can it do for you? 
it can impoverish, but it cannot make you rich ; it can 
weaken, but it cannot give you strength ; it can make 
you sorrowful, but it cannot comfort you in sorrow. 
Will you persist in it, against reason, against religion, 
against everything that ought to influence you as a man ? 
Well, I foresee that the day will come, when a haggard, 
penniless wretch, in rags, and filth, and misery, your 
health undermined, your character lost, your friends all 
ignoring you, with starvation and death before you, and 
your hungry children pining for bread, you will remem- 
ber that in the Concert Hall, one Sunday afternoon, a 
man told you, and told you earnestly, that " the devil's 
meal was all bran !" 

Are there any licentious persons here — persons whose 
intemperate excess takes other, and if possible grosser, 
forms than that of intoxication? to them also I would 
speak for a moment, for to them this maxim most fully 
applies. The unhappy woman, '-who has forsaken the 
guide of her youth, and forgotten the counsel of her 
God," who with artificial color tries to look healthy, and 
with a smile as artificial would fain appear mirthful and 
gay, if she did but speak the feelings of her heart, would 
tell how, in her bitter experience, " the devil's meal" 



THE DEVIL'S MEAL IS ALL BEAN. 411 

has proved to be "all bran." It must be so ; the life 
she leads is one of incessant wretchedness, and it is soon 
worn out, and she goes down to a grave of shame. Pos- 
sibly, in her last hours she repents, and finds mercy 
from Him who never spurned the guiltiest suppliant from 
His throne, and in whom all those unhappy outcasts 
may find mercy. For if society has shut all its- doors 
against them, Christ has not shut his ; and every pro- 
mise of his gospel is addressed as freely and as unre- 
servedly to the loosest harlot, as to the strictest moralist 
on the face of the earth. 

If I did not know that licentiousness is a frightfully 
prevalent sin, I should shrink from further reference to 
it; for it is a subject of a very repulsive character, and 
one on which it is difficult to speak in a mixed assembly 
like this, without offending against delicacy. But still, 
if it be, as I think it is, a public duty to refer to this 
subject, when occasion offers, I hope that I may be ex- 
cused. I rejoice much in the measure of success which 
has crowned the efforts to hold this vice in check, but I 
am sorry that men have not sufficient good sense, suffi- 
cient moral principle, sufficient self-control, to abstain 
from all such abominable impurities. I am sorry that 
the streets are infested by harlots, but astonished that 
people who call themselves men should be at once so im- 
moral and so weak, should have hearts so depraved and 
heads so empty, as to be in the slightest degree tempted 
by their solicitations. Whenever I see a man stopping 
to talk with a street walker, I say to myself, Now there 
goes a fool. Is it not a shocking thing, exclaim a thou- 
sand virtuous and indignant fathers, that our sons should 



412 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

:posed to ngers? Well, perhaps it is, but I 

would al —Is it not a shocking thing that your 

ch blockheads, that you have not driven 
rise into their heads, and instilled more 
morality into their hearts ! Your sons, poor innocents ! 
oh yes, shield them by all means from every temptation; 
clear the street-, that these dear young gentlemen may 
be safe. But let " Pater-familias" do his duty as his 
sons grow up ; let him try to overcome that reluctance 
which he very naturally feels to speak to them on such 
a subject; let him faithfully warn them, appeal to their 
self-respect, to their strength of mind ; encourage them 
always to make passion succumb to reason, and the in- 
stincts of appetite to obey the precepts of morality. 
Why should not our young men, like a certain noble 
young man of ancient times, learn to reason thus, and 
with this reason to overcome the temptation, "How can 
I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?" The 
scenes which are witnessed in casinos, dancing rooms, 
and other places of licentious resort, are too indecent to 
be d< : and those places are frequented not merely 

by the young, but by men that have grown old and har- 
dened in their beastly propensities. Nor are they visited 
by the poor, nor in great numbers by the working men ; 
they ■ the most part, too expensive for them ; 

men can'1 stand sherry and champagne. But 
tradesmen ami merchants, tradesmen's assistants and 
merchant's clerks, mainly support those glittering estab- 
lishments. 

What tl such debauchery arc, may 

. if from nothing else, from the columns 



THE DEVIL'S MEAL IS ALL BEAN. 413 

of our newspapers, and from the fact that it pays to 
distribute in mercantile offices, and distribute gratis, 
books addressed to the diseased votaries of licentiousness, 
while thousands of disgusting handbills are distributed in 
the streets ; one of such bills is probably the very first 
thing the traveler meets with on emerging from the 
railway station. And how are these productions headed ? 
" To the afflicted"—" To the unhappy"—" To the melan- 
choly" — " Lowness of spirits, languor, nervousness, 
affection of mind and memory, premature decline, fearful 
dreams." What, all these miseries? The men to whom 
all this advice is to be given, profess to be men of pleasure. 
This is a goodly list of their enjoyments, truly ! So you 
men of pleasure are " afflicted," and "unhappy," "and 
"melancholy," and "nervous," are you? You are not 
then the jovial lot you profess to be, but a poor creachy 
set of broken down hypochondriacs, old before your time ! 
Tell me, my fine fellows, is not "the devil's meal all 
bran?" With your lips, perhaps, you say No; with 
your hearts, I tell you, that I know you are saying Yes, 
every one of you ! These vices cannot be indulged 
without money ; harlotry is insatiable as hell ; you must 
have money, and how are you to get it — you young man, 
at a salary of £Q0 or ,£100 a year ? How are you to 
get the portrait of your favorite strumpet, and one of 
your worthy self, to present to her — for you are very 
sentimental in the midst of your revelry? And the wine, 
and the finery, and all the rest of it ? How ? There's 
the till, there's the cash-box, and there, in your heart, 
there's a fire burning like the fire of hell. You don't 
intend to steal ; no, honor bright, you won't do that ; you 



414 LECTURES FOR THE PEOPLE. 

will borrow, without the knowledge of your employer, 
and trust to the chapter of accidents for the ability 
to replace the amount. But the chapter of accidents 
offers no such chance, and you borrow again and again, 
until restitution is impossible, and you are discovered, 
prosecuted, and made a scoundrel of for life. Such cases 
have occurred, and are indeed of rather common occur- 
rence, and they loudly proclaim the truth of this old 
saying, " The devil's meal is all bran!" 

The pleasures of sin, of all sin, are at the best only 
for a season, and that a very short one ! They are not 
worth the money that they cost ; to put the matter on 
the lowest footing, as a mere question of economy, it is a 
man's wisdom to abstain from them ; as a question of 
physical health, it is a man's wisdom to shun them ; as a 
question of reputation, it is a man's wisdom to avoid 
them ; as a question of morality and religion, it is a 
man's wisdom to hate them. Let us be advised, and 
advised in time, by what our reason can so clearly sec — 
by what our conscience can so distinctly feel — by what 
our observation so abundantly confirms ; lest a terrible 
and lacerating experience, chastising us as with scorpions, 
torturing us with pain, plunging us into poverty, covering 
us with disgrace, involving us in crime, and at last 
hurling us into hell, teach us, to our endless sorrow and 
unspeakable despair, that "the devil's meal is all 

BRAN." 







Jan 2S &«'. 



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